Al Coda
by yamiishot
Summary: Chris is gone for good and the team are devastated. They need something to get them going again. Can they sort out their differences and move on before Wesker comes for them too? Or will the team succumb to the pressure and drift away from the cause?
1. Chapter 1

-1Jill lies in bed, alone, cold, in the dark. There's no one else in the room beside her, not like there normally is. She's missing a certain someone, a certain someone with short, dark hair, and handsome blue eyes, a devilish grin, and a penchant for kicking Umbrella's ass.

She sighs and reaches out, touching the pillow where his head should be lying, caressing it instead of the brown locks. This is where he should have be; not lying at the bottom of an ocean to be the food for whatever fish is passing by at the time.

The pain hits her harder than the others know, than the others can see. It's hitting her every second with the weight of a train, carrying lorries, carrying set cement with steel girders embedded in it. It's clenching her heart in a steel fist, the coldness settling all over her body. She's numb, though if it's the pain of loosing him, or the cold room she's not sure. She'sshaking for the same reason, though the tears refuse to come.

She won't let herself have that pleasure. Crying means he's gone for good, that he won't walk through the door, growling at Carlos for eyeing his girl / his sister / the medic, carrying pizza from the downtown Pizza Hut. Crying means he won't be here in bed anymore with her, turning the cold room into a sauna with their midnight activities. Crying means…it's over.

She can't help herself anymore. The tears trickle out, one by one, flowing down her face to drip onto the pillow, and before she knows it, she's sobbing, clutching his pillow, inhaling his scent, weeping over her heartbreak. He isn't coming back, he'll never pick another fight with Umbrella, he won't lead them anymore…won't tell her how much he loves her, won't ever hold her during the night…It's over.

--

In the morning she's sitting alone at the table, a lukewarm cup of coffee in her hands. His favourite - milk, three sugars. She always told him he'd get fat with three sugars. He'd laugh and give her a kiss, then tell her she'd get fat if she kept hogging all the chocolate biscuits.

A tear threatens to fall but it's blinked away as Barry appears and flicks the kettle on. His eyes refuse to meet hers, too ashamed. Barry tried to save him, been too slow, and now the guilt is slowly eating away at him. He hasn't looked at Jill ever since.

He hasn't slept, and the black bags under his eyes are showing it. He sits down across from Jill, waiting for the water to boil. He stares down at the table, trying to take an avid interest in the way the varnished wood twists into knots but it's just not working. Slowly, he lifts his eyes and they meet Jill's.

Suddenly the words start coming.

"Jill, I'm sorry -"

"Barry don't -"

"If I'd -"

"Barry please -"

"Jill, I just ha-"

"Barry enough!" Jill pushes back the chair and stands up, hands flat on the table. "I realise you miss Chris as well, but please, just can we not talk about this?!"

"O-of course Jill…I'm sorry." Barry looks down at the table again. He's beginning to understand Jill's pain must weight heavy on her if she can't even talk about the man she cares…cared for. Is she blaming herself? Probably, he reasons. _But if I__'__d been faster then he__'__d be here with us._

The kettle's finished boiling, so he stands and sets about making himself a cup of tea.

Claire's bedroom door opens and she steps out, eyes puffy and cheeks wet. She's had no sleep either. She wasn't there to see her brother die. All the memories she has of him are happy ones, and she's thankful he's not repeatedly falling to his death behind her eyelids like Jill says is happening to her.

"Jill…" Claire finds herself standing beside the B&E specialist, half whispering, half croaking the words out. "Jill, I miss him so much…"

"I know, I know Claire…I do too." The brunette stands and embraces the red-haired sister of the man she loved, each taking comfort and strength from the other.

Barry takes one look at the grieving pair and leaves the room, the tea sitting half made on the sugar and tea-stained bench. He can't take this anymore. The guilt, the grief, it's not right. They shouldn't be doing this.

Everything falls to Barry now, to lead them, to get them to finish the mission. If he lets them wallow then nothing good willcome of it, only weakness. They will mourn later, when that blond bastard is dead.

Barry opens the door to Jill's room and shuts it behind him. His old friend once told him if anything should happen, there would be a letter under the pair's mattress that would help. Barry just hopes it will, because if it doesn't then nothing will.

He lifts the mattress and sees the brown envelope, along with a shotgun visible through thebe bars, lying on top of a green STARS bullet vest and a blue beret with the STARS logo. Barry momentarily smiles at the sight, old, happy memories resurfacing, only to be torn away by harsh reality. He grabs the letter and drops the mattress, sitting down to stare at the messy scrawl addressing the envelope.

_To Barry and Company, in case :_

_A: The shit hits the fan_

_B: I die_

_C: Both of the above_

Barry smiles at the bluntness. Typical of the man, really. Always trying to make light of a situation. Barry just flips the envelope and opens it carefully, not wanting to damage the contents inside. He hasn't got a clue what he'll find. It could be anything, photographs, a well laid plan, which is doubtful, considering who the letter is from.

He pulls out a few sheets of paper and some other odds and ends fall to the carpeted floor when he up-ends the envelope. Barry scoops them up and sits down on the bed, refusing to look at them just yet. Instead he turns to the paper, and finds the first few words a blurry mess. He blinks and it takes him a few seconds to realise he's tearing up, ready to cry. Immediately he wipes a hand across his face to rid it of the few that had fallen, cursing himself for getting emotional. He can't afford to, not if he's supposed to be leading this rag-tag group to victory.

After a moment, Barry can see clearly again. He hears the others calling for him, so he slips everything back into the envelope and stands up. It is be best to read in in front of them, he thinks. He makes his way into the kitchen, and from the look on his face, the others know whatever he's got in the envelope is important.

"I'll…I'll get Carlos and Rebecca..." Claire murmurs, wiping away the last of her tears. Jill nods and sits herself at the table, a random thought coming to her. This iswhere _he_ sat usually. The thought makes her want to weep anew, but she forces herself not to.

A few moments of tense silence pass between the two ex-STARS members before Claire, Carlos and Rebecca troop into the room, Rebecca clinging to the merc. The trio finds seats and sit in silence for another moment or two and then Barry looks at them all, one by one. He lifts the envelope up to show them and says three simple words that shock everyone at the table.

"It's from Chris…"

Jill's heart leaps into her throat, and she stares at the envelope like it's her only life line.Right now, it's her only connection to the man she loved.

Rebecca's hand tightens in Carlos' grip, and he puts a hand on her shoulder. He knows she cared for the marksman a lot, made sense since he saved her life enough times on the crazy missions they did, and she him. They were close, and his death hitthe poor girl harder than she was admitting. He barely knew the marksman and now that the guy's dead…well. That says it all.

Claire just stays silent, praying her brother will walk in through the door and say it's all been an elaborate joke.

Barry moves to the head of the table and opens the envelope again, pulling out the pieces of paper. "Should I…?"

"No…" Jill stands, pushing the wooden chair back. "I want to read it."

Barry gazes at her for a moment then nods, handing over the papers. He understands right away it's something she has to do. He takes a seat and Jill stands for another moment then sits down, clearing her throat, then begins to read aloud.

_Hey guys. It's me, Chris. Well, of course it is, who else would it be?…_

_Anyway, if you're reading this, I guess it means I'm…dead. God, that's a depressing thought. Knowing you all, you'll be grieving for me. You really shouldn't you know. If I'm dead, then you need to be strong and carry on with taking down Umbrella and Wesker. If I was lucky, I'll have blown that Blonde Bastard up with me. If not, then I'm sorry, I've left you more work than I wanted to._

_Jill, babe, I'm sorry. I'm rewriting this letter constantly, before every mission, and I always pray Barry won't have to break it out. This time…this time it's different. There were so many things I wanted to say to you before we left, so many plans I had_ -

Jill breaks off, a hand going up to her mouth, trying to hold back the sobs. She takes a moment to regain her self-control, and she picks up where she left off, heart breaking.

_-so many plans I had for us. And now there's no chance for any of it. Jill, forgive me for being too slow. _

_Barry, I'm putting you in charge. You're the leader now, take care of the rest of them, especially Claire when Carlos is around._

Jill cracks a small smile, lifting her eyes from the paper to look at the merc, who's smiling slightly.

_I'll be watching, and if my sister turns me into a dead uncle, I'll be sure to blame it on you Barry. I'm just kidding. Seriously though, take care of them all for me. You'll probably do better than I've done. Take care of Jilly too. _

_Claire…I broke my promise. I said I'd come back, and I didn't. I'm sorry. I promised I'd get Steve back for you, and I didn't. I do a lot of promising. That's easy, the hard part is keeping them…I didn't Sherry back for you either. I'm not the best big brother in the world, but I do love you Claire-Bear. Take care of yourself._

Claire bursts into tears and suddenly Carlos has a sodding wet shoulder as she clings to it, weeping.

_Becca, make sure you look after this lot. Without me, they'll be getting into less scrapes, so you won't have to do too much work anymore. So I just saved you a lot of medical supplies…I'm just kidding Becca. You just keep your chin up, and one day you'll get what - or who - you want. Just be sure to beat Carlos into a pulp for me if he ever tries anything with Claire, god knows I've seen you do it enough times._

Rebecca grins, a few tears still making their way down her face. She has beaten up Carlos a few times, but she never realised the marksman knew. "I will Sir, don't worry," she murmurs.

_Carlos…Stay away from my sister or I will kick your ass whether I'm dead or not._

Carlos lifts his hands up in defence. "Hey, hey, easy! I wasn't planning on making a move on your sister."

Jill smiles a little and shakes her head. "He knows you too well Carlos. He knows us all well. Just…no longer."

_Or I'll let Rebecca get to you first. Your choice my friend. _

_Now…Since I'm gone, there's something you should probably do. A funeral. Well forget it, there's no time for it. You can cry over an empty grave when Umbrella's gone for good. Cause that's the only time when my corpse will rest easy. Oh god you didn't let me turn into a zombie did you? PLEASE tell me you shot me before that? If you didn't I will be haunting your ass Carlos!_

"Hey why pick on me?!"

_Anyway…I guess…this is goodbye for me. I'll see you all in heaven then. Bye guys…Take care of yourselves…_

_Chris _


	2. Chapter 2

-1

Chapter Dedication: This Chapter goes out to Chaed, a rather good friend of mine. She's given me ideas, inspired me to write for Resident Evil, and she introduced me to the world of Project Moirae, something that I absolutely adore. So this chapter's for you my friend. Thank you.

Lara

--

Wesker's staring down at the newest addition to his lab pets. He can't quite believe that it's real, but because it's in front of him, he has to. Somehow, that blasted brat got in and turned the damn thing PURPLE!

The hunter looks up at him with pale pink eyes, and Wesker immediately wants to crush the thing like bug under his boot. The poor, miscoloured creature flinches and croaks mournfully, as if it knows exactly what he wants to do.

Next time the ginger boy sets foot in the labs is the last. It's hard trying to be an evil genius when mutant brats are messing with your carefully created DNA sequences and turning your beloved pets into girlish nightmares.

Steve had been almost useless apart from the small virus sample, other that turning his lap pets different colours and just being there to annoy. Wesker doesn't want to get rid of the boy, however. The virus, it seems, quite likes the company. It may be a different strain, but it was still partially similar to Wesker's own variation of whatever the hell Birkin had in that vial.

Wesker, for years, has been trying to get the exact replica of the virus in his blood stream. No luck. Every single one of his experiments he had tried to create with his own fail miserably every time. He's almost at his wits end with this failure. However, he's willing to take one more chance before resorting to trashing the place in a temper.

The white doors slide open and in steps a person in a biohazard suit. The Hunter chitters and croons a welcome.

"Steve, remove the suit."

"Aww, but it's-"

"Now Steve."

The suited -up boy sighs and goes back outside to remove the suit and put it back where he got it. Sometimes, it's like having a mini Redfield - _perish the thought - _running around his ankles.

_Ah yes…Mini Redfield…that man is so gullible I almost don't believe it. I swear, if he hadn't found that photo, to this day he'd believe I had no part in the Mansion. _

Steve steps back into the room, humming a nonsensical tune to himself as he leans over the benches and prods at various things.

"Steve?"

"Yeah Wezzy?"

"Stop calling me that. Who gave you permission to fool around with the Hunter DNA?"

"Uh…me?"

Slowly, very slowly, Wesker removes the sunglasses from his face and sets them into the lab coat pocket.

"Steve…I'm giving you one more chance to prove your actually worth keeping around or you will find yourself dead on an autopsy table faster than you can blink."

"You'll be needing someone else to help you with Claire's brother? Someone he won't wanna kill on sight?"

Wesker frowns at the ginger haired boy. Slowly, the hint of a tiny smile creeps onto his face. "Your being serious for once…Alright you can stay alive, just a little longer."

"So…you really think this is gonna work Wezzy? I mean, the guy hates your guts. You can't be serious about -"

"I can assure you, I am. As strong as I am, you lack certain…qualities of a good soldier. Your good with guns, but that's only because your lucky. You can barely fight, it's nothing but brute strength and again, luck. Redfield is a trained soldier. He'll be rather useful when compliant."

"What am I? Fish food?" Steve crosses his arms and glares heatedly at Wesker, his skin suddenly seeming to gain a light green tinge.

Now Wesker, he's not particularly wanting Steve to destroy anything in this facility, and so he has to come up with something to get Steve to calm down.

"Steve, go to your room and leave me alone. If you do this I will buy you the newest car chase game."

Steve blinks. "You serious? You'll buy me GTA 4?!"

"Yes." Wesker nods, absentmindedly wondering why he keeps the boy around, why he spends so much on console games for the brat, why he doesn't just kill him, why he doesn't just train him for real and what the hell GTA 4 is. _Ah yes, because I have Redfield now. Doubtless the two will get one and speak non-stop about that little red-headed girl__…__what was her name__…__ah yes, Claire wasn__'__t it?_

Steve cheers loudly and turns to leave the room. "Oh, Wezzy?"

"Don't call me that." The blonde's reply by now is automatic, he's already tuned Steve out and is focusing on a small Petri dish under a microscope.

"Did you like how I painted the Hunter?" He laughs and leaves.

A few seconds later Wesker lifts his head and blinks. "Paint?!"

--

The lab has finally finished boring him, the various rainbow coloured Hunters have been washed down, and now Wesker's taking the last of his free time before he decides to wake up Chris. Steve, oddly enough, hasn't been seen since he left the lab, and Wesker is partially relived and partially worried. Steve on his own is rarely a good thing. If he's not causing havoc with the animals and BOW's then he's doing something equally atrocious.

The level they live and work on of the facility is strictly off limits to all…humans. The penalty for this is generally death, usually by whatever monster Steve happens to have let roam free around at that point. His favourite at the moment is the Hunters. The stupid beasts actually let him pick them up, carry them about, play with them and somehow even paint them!

Wesker sighs and bites down on an energy bar. _God knows how he managed to get them to stay still enough to paint the whole thing. Those contacts were a nightmare. I can__'__t imagine how much bother he went to getting the blasted things in. Hunter__'__s must have hated it, but they do generally like the boy._

Suddenly, a mop of ginger hair appears over the side of couch's arm rest. Wesker takes one look at it and inwardly groans. "What _now_ Steve?!"

"Um…I may have done a little…whoopsie in the lab…"

Wesker stares at the slightly moving hairdo, the face hidden behind the black leather couch.

"A big whoopsie…"

_Oh god, what did he do, please not-_

"…maybe a whoopsie with certain guy you brought b-"

"STEVE BURNSIDE!" Wesker was on his feet in seconds, Steve pinned to the opposite wall by his throat. "What. Exactly. Did. You. Do. To. My. SPECIMIN?!" Anger is burning throughout Wesker's body coursing through his veins as hot as the sun, yelling, screaming, _moaning_ for him to spill blood in his rage.

Steve clutches at the hand closing his wind pipe, struggling to breath. He may be a Tyrant, infected with the stronger T-Alexia, but it still hurts to suffocate.

Wesker slowly forces himself to calm down and not rip out Steve's throat. He needs the boy, and the company, if irritating, would doubtless be better than Redfield. "What did you do Steve?! Tell me!"

"I think I pressed purge."


	3. Chapter 3

-1

The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is water, or something like it. It's not hurting his eyes though, which is odd, because water generally hurts your eyes, especially salt water from the ocean. He can breath as well, that's not quite right either. Then he realises he's got a mask over his mouth and nose, pumping fresh oxygen into his lungs with every breath he takes.

He blinked and lifts a hand, touching the glass in front of him. A quick glance showed him he was in a round glass tube, and there several…things sticking out of him, wires and tubes. This isn't a good thing.

Another blink and his eyes adjust into a sharp focus, showing him beyond the glass tube. A ginger haired boy is staring at him, mouth open, eyes wide.

He suddenly realises that although he's stuck in a glass tube with various wires and such stuck in him and some teenager staring at his naked body, he's not in any way scared, embarrassed or shocked. He feels a strong companionship with the boy for some reason, something between them, connecting them closely. He doesn't know what it is, but he wonders if Ginger can feel it too.

He opens his mouth to speak behind the mask, and the boy opened his and yells, mild panic evident in his voice.

"WEZZY!!"

As the youth flees still shouting on this 'Wezzy' he's able to see the room he is currently in. Most visible thing being the flashing red letters saying PURGING on a computer monitor just behind where the red-head had been moments before.

Suddenly there's a gurgle and a sound best described as _fwoosh._ He's aware of the level of liquid rapidly going down and small whirlpools forming as the stuff gets sucked down several drains in the bottom of the tube.

A layer of the gunk remains on his skin, _lovely_. He swiftly pulls off the air mask and takes a deep breath, the quality of air is definitely not the best but it's manageable. It's now that he notices all the tubes. Attached in all sorts of places. He yanks one off of his arm, causing a sharp pain to shoot through him and leaving behind a nasty looking wound. How many more does he have to remove? Twisting himself round he gets a clue. Lots. Wonderful, great, just peachy. He flinches suddenly as he realises theres a tube attached to two places he really didn't want to know about. One _there_ and another up…well, it'll feel uncomfortable coming out, he thinks to himself.

He's got no idea where he is or why he's there… in fact he's currently having difficulty remembering his name and by the look of it there's nobody around to ask and find out since the kid ran off. Panic is beginning to set in and he frantically pulls off a few more of the unwanted attachments before deciding it's a bit too painful to continue doing. Some frog shaped thing with bright yellow and black stripes walks past the glass quite calmly, too interested in whatever it was doing to look inside the tube.

_Shoom._

A door on the other side of the room opens and the red haired boy enters again, blubbering about how he 'didn't mean it'. He's followed by a man wearing sunshades despite the rather obvious lack of sun in the lab. He's not too sure exactly what it is about the man but the mere sight of his face fills him with rage that is threatens to burst from him and boil Blondie alive.

The closer Blondie comes to the tube, the more the man trapped inside wants to kill him. His fists clench, then all the white hot anger seems to shoot to a spot on his belly, causing him incredible pain which he is pretty sure no human should ever feel, and he starts to shake.

Blondie's shouting at the kid, who's looking rather upset. He can't hear what they were saying, all he can think about is the pain in his stomach, the pain resembling something trying to claw it's way out of his stomach. He flings his head, back ready to scream, but no sound comes out. Instead there's a squelch followed by the sound of glass shattering and a small 'urk'.

He looks down and his mouth falls open at the sight in front of him. A large, slimy tentacle-like appendage is protruding from where one's belly button is normally found. It's about twice as long as he is tall and it's currently sticking through the middle of the Blondie, who's looking a bit shocked to say the least. The boy, on the other hand, is actually laughing. _Laughing_ at the skewered Blondie.

"I did something like that when I first woke up." He manages to speak through the laughter.

The tentacle retracts and the whole monstrosity's back within him in seconds.

With a whimper, his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses, yanking out the rest of the tubes. He doesn't feel that, now in the blissfully pain free world of unconsciousness.

--

Co-Written with Bunnzilla, a close friend.

Cliffhanger simply because we're evil 3 Review for moar.


	4. Chapter 4

-1

Chapter Dedication: This ones for a very good friend, a friend who draws a very sweet little green lizard called Miggins. This ones for you Ry-Ry.

--

Claire yawns, covering her mouth with a half-gloved hand. The fingers of the glove were (unsurprisingly) missing. She was alone (well, as alone as you can be in a traffic jam), and bored out of her mind. Suddenly, she licks her inner wrist, waits three seconds then sniffs it, seeing if her breath is bad. It's not _too_ bad, but it doesn't smell too great either. In fact, it smells like chicken chow mien, the food she'd been eating about half an hour ago with Rebecca. She'd gone to see the medic about a personal problem and had spent half the day with the girl, laughing, joking, and talking about random crap. It was…god, it was fun. She'd almost forgotten what that was.

Right now though, she's in the middle of a traffic jam, in the middle of Berlin, stuck on her cycle with no leathers, no helmet, nothing but denim shorts, shoes, tank top and fingerless gloves. With her hair pulled back in a ponytail, it's giving her a horrible sense of de ja vu from the night she went to Raccoon. She remembered thinking that Chris would kill her when they met each other, because she hadn't worn her leathers. At least back then she'd had a helmet.

Her heart clenches painfully at the thought of Chris but the pain is less than it has been. It's only been a year since he died, but still…he had been the only family she had left, and then he'd gone as well. Jill was fantastic, and Barry kept them all going, and this year they'd taken down a hidden Umbrella facility in Chris's honour. He'd left the next missions orders beside his letter. Said he'd done it as a precaution. It was so unlike Chris, but it made them realise he was more than they ever gave him credit for. Even if he didn't seem like he planned ahead, he did. He did his research, and he was the best leader and friend they could have hoped for…the best brother Claire could have ever wished for.

Claire shakes herself and starts the bike moving as the traffic begins to move around her. It's not the time to be thinking about Chris…even if…even if tomorrow was the day he died.

That's the reason she's out on her bike. She's been going around like crazy to try and find a chocolate cake big enough for them all to share, and she needs to buy champagne or some form of alcohol that they all like, which is hard enough because of their meagre budget. Leon sent some money occasionally, which helped a good deal, but he wasn't allowed to speak to anyone outside the academy until he'd finished his training. Claire missed him, but there were others she missed a good deal more…

She pulls up outside the chain supermarket and goes in, to return a few minutes later with a cake and some beer, because everyone likes beer, and if they don't they can go suck Wesker for all Claire cares, she just wants to get home and sit her ass down on something softer than the bike.

--

Claire walks in the door and frowns at the sight in front of her. Jill's pressed up against the wall, arms wrapped around Carlos's neck and they're kissing each other gently. It's sweet, but in Claire's heart, it doesn't feel right. Jill should be kissing Chris, not the mercenary she met in Raccoon. She half thinks Jill's betraying Chris's memory by doing this, but she realises that Jill's alive, and Carlos cares about her…Chris is gone and he's never coming back…

Claire dumps the bag onto the table with a loud thump, and Jill and Carlos leap apart, looking like guilty teenagers. Jill instinctively smoothes down her hair, while Carlos smirks and ruffles his.

"Claire, where were you, we were worried about you." Jill asks, watching her take out the cake and beer. Jill hated beer. From the look on Claire's face though, she'd best not say anything.

"You didn't look like you were doing much worrying." the biker mutters scathingly. "You know what day it is tomorrow, can't you hold back your hormones for even a little while? God! Can't you just-"

"Just what Claire? Be celibate for the rest of my life?" Jill glares angrily at her former lovers sister. "Chris is _gone_. He's dead. You think I don't know that tomorrow is the day he died?! I was _there._ I watched him _die_ Claire! Do you know what that did to me?!"

"No but-"

"Then do us all a favour and don't talk about things you don't understand!" Jill turns on her heel and goes to her room slamming it shut.

--

Inside, Jill sinks down onto the bed and hesitates before pulling a cardboard box from under the bed. Insides is a few little things, nothing special to anyone other than her really. She pulls out a bottle of aftershave, opens it, inhaling the scent. Chris always wore this brand once he figured out she loved the smell. She sets it back in the box and pulls out the photograph of her and Chris, him wearing her beret, the picture with a big lipstick kiss on it. Not that anyone actually knew, but the lipstick kiss was from Forest when he was drunk. What a night _that _had been.

Jill puts it back and pulls out another photo, this time of all the STARS together, then another or Chris fishing, then yet another of the marksman, this time with his sister. There's more pictures in the box, separate snapshots of the team members at work (Brad), target practice (Forrest and Chris), sleeping on the desk (Enrico after the Christmas party) and many others, including one she'd kept of Wesker. She'd taken it secretly, when she'd spotted him with no glasses on. He had a small smile on his face, and the sun was hitting off his hair so beautifully she'd had to take the picture. His ice blue eyes stand out amazingly in it, and she's proud of the photograph. She's kept it because it's a reminder of happier days, days she wishes would come back.

Jill sets the photo's down and pulls out the piece de résistance, the one thing she cherished above all else. She'd found it inside Chris's STARS vest, when she'd been holding it for comfort about a week after he died. A small velvet covered ring case, and inside, two different sized wedding bands and an emerald and sapphire engagement ring. Blue and green, their colours.

If the others ever knew she kept this box, they'd know exactly how she felt about Chris. She isn't over him at all. Every time she wakes up and sees Carlos at her side rather than Chris, her heart splits anew. They'd know that Jill Valentine was still very much in love with a dead man.

Everything gets put back into the box, aside from the rings, which she sets on the bedside table, positioning them just right to that the afternoon sun catches the precious gems and reflects off. If Jill hadn't seen the marksman fall, then she never would have thought he was dead. There were still little reminders of his life everywhere, Claire still bought his coffee occasionally, out of sheer habit. Jill just wished it were so, that he'd come back. He didn't feel dead in her heart, he just felt missing.

"No, don't. He's gone…he's gone…no." Jill murmurs to herself, to stop herself from hoping a fools hope. If he was alive then he would have come back, after all, it has been a year. He would have phoned or something.

She shouldn't have yelled at Claire, she realises. The girl misses her brother more than Jill probably does, no wonder she doesn't like Jill being with Carlos. Claire still probably thinks Jill should be wearing black and weeping.

But Jill isn't that kind of girl. She fell apart, and Carlos was there to pick up the pieces. She wasn't serious about the relationship, but she had the feeling Carlos was. _Maybe it's best to break it off…_

As the bedroom door opened, Jill grabbed the ring box in one hand and hid the memories box under the duvet, half panicking as Carlos walked in. _Has he seen the box? _

Carlos shut the door behind him and walked over to the bed, face set with determination. He hasn't noticed the tense way Jill is sitting, hasn't noticed that she's clutching a badly concealed ring box with two hands.

"She had no right to speak to you like that chica." he says angrily, setting himself down beside her, millimetres from crushing Jill's precious hidden box. "The man is dead, she can't expect you to be a nun from now on."

"Give the girl a break Carlos…Tomorrows the day she lost her brother last year. You weren't there either."

Carlos gives her a long look then sighs. "Your right Jill…I'm sorry." He slowly wraps an arm around her waist and lifts her onto his lap, finally twigging that there's something in her hands. He smiles to himself and slips a hand over her covered ones. "What's that you got there Jill?" he whispers in her ear, his breath ghosting over her ear. She shivers, closing her eyes, and her iron grip on the ring box relaxes as she replaces the image of Carlos and his voice with Chris's.

With a deft movement he grabs the ring box and flips it open, raising an eyebrow. "Jill these are…"

Jill's eyes snap open and she snatches the ring box from him, getting to her feet. "Nothing, they're nothing." she babbles, shoving the ring box in a drawer. -_He knows, he knows and he'll tell the others, they'll think I'm pathetic_-

"Jill, those were wedding rings…Why do you have them?" He's highly doubtful that she'll be asking him to marry her, and it was a woman's engagement ring in there, not a mans…_Which means… _"They're from Chris, aren't they."

It's not a question, and he's not expecting a verbal answer, the merc can see it in the way she's standing, how she's gazing at the floor, as if she wants it to swallow her whole. His voice turns cold. "You still love him don't you? You're in love with a dead man." He rises to his feet, eyes locked onto her face.

"Face it Jill. He's dead."

"Shut up…" she whispers, squeezing her eyes shut.

"He's dead -" he grabs her arms.

"-Stop it…" A tear trickles out.

"You need to get over him!"

"Carlos stop it!" she pleads, voice shaking.

"He doesn't exist anymore!"

"SHUP UP!" She screams at him, breaking away. "You don't know anything! Just leave me alone! I don't want anything more to do with you!"

"What's going on in here?!" Rebecca's standing at the open bedroom door. One look at Jill's tear-stained face, and Carlos's red angry one is all she needs to see. "Carlos…I think you should go for a walk." she speaks calmly, not wanting to exacerbate things any further.

The merc nods and exit's the room, brushing past the medic. Making sure Carlos has left, Rebecca moves over to Jill and embraces the older woman, comforting her.

"Becca? What was all the shouting?" Claire peers into the room and sees Jill crying on the medic's shoulder. In spite of the tiff she and Jill had just been having moments ago, Claire enters the room, wanting to help the eldest female of the group feel better, because they're friends, and that's what your supposed to do. The three sit down on the bed, and Jill pulls out the box. Perhaps it's time to tell the others, maybe then she can move on and the pain will finally free her from its clutches…

--

Carlos storms along the silent streets, ignoring the occasional hooker calling out to him, growling to himself in frustration. _God damnit, Chris is dead, why can't she just move on and be happy with me?! Is it too much to ask?! He's fish food and he's still all she ever thinks about. She even whispers his name in sleep, during sex…_

He turns down an alleyway and punches the nearest wall, yelling angrily in his native tongue. She can't keep doing this to him, it's tearing him in two. It feels like she's just using him to keep alive the marksman's memory.

…_Fuck that hurt…_

Carlos cradles his hand, cursing himself for actually punching a goddamned brick wall. His hand feels like…like…_Like I just punched a brick wall _he thinks to himself, ironically.

Something buzzes faintly in his shirt pocket. Carlos frowns and pulls out the ageing Nokia 3310. The old brick is a good phone, and only the others have the number for it. How long has he been gone, he wonders. Surely only a few minutes?

He accepts the call and holds the phone to his ear.

"Good morning star shine." he mutters into the phone.

"Oh, how sweet, they use code phrases!" A sultry feminine voice speaks down the other end of the line, and it's not one he recognises.

"Who is this?"

"This is someone who's about to make you an offer…you can't refuse."


	5. Chapter 5

-1

**Chapter Dedication:** To Bunnyzilla, because you're my best bud and I luff joo! You lot can thank her for Steve being here.

--

Steve stared down at the immobile body of Christopher Redfield, half tempted to peel back an eyelid to see if the guy would wake up and spear Wesker again. Said blonde man had healed fine, but he'd made Steve clean up the blood, because neither BOW could be bother catching all the Hunters and putting them in their cages just to ensure the maid wouldn't be killed the moment she stepped into the living quarters.

Just as he raises a hand to lift the eyelid, it's slapped away by the sleeping man himself. Steve frowns and tries it again. Once more it's slapped away. The third time, the arm is grabbed and Steve is thrown to the other side of the room, landing on top of another hospital bed.

"Whoa…"

"Fuck off, 'm sleepin'."

"Well, evidently he remembers how to talk, or rather, curse."

Steve looks up and sees Wesker leaning over the bed on which Chris is now burrowing into, trying to sleep once more.

"Was he not supposed to?"

"Well, if he had been kept in the stasis tank for another four years -" here Wesker shoots Steve a look, reminding the teen of his colossal mistake - "then he would have remembered nothing and I wouldn't have to listen to him. But, as it is, he's unlikely to have any memories left by now, and the virus should be contained within him safely to an extent." Wesker pauses, removing his shades, eyes narrowed. "However, he mutated yesterday, and that should not have occurred…If I lose my specimen because of your folly, Mr. Burnside I will not hesitate in exacting just punishment."

Steve stares at him, horrified. "Since when did you go back to last name basis?!"

"Since yesterday. You're going to have to earn my trust again. Good luck." A small smirk, and then Wesker was back to studying Chris's sleeping form.

"…I hate you."

"You can start by waking him up." Wesker walks away from the bed and to the other side of the room. "I'll be right here."

"Pussy." Steve mutters, getting up and stretching out his muscles. "You just don't want to get skewered again. Gotta admit, Wesker-kebabs are fun."

Wesker ignores the comment and watches carefully, mentally ready to take notes.

Steve stands by the bed. He hesitates then goes back to the bed he landed on, grabbing a pillow. Shooting a wink at Wesker, he stands a little way away from Chris's sleeping form and tosses the pillow.

With a ripping noise, it's torn through while it flies towards Chris, torn by the tentacle appendage once again protruding from the man's stomach.

"Uh…Wesker…" Steve turns to seek help from the blonde.

"I saw, I saw. Try doing it non-violently." he says as the thing retreats back into the toned stomach.

"Do I-"

"Do it Steve."

The teen sighs, missing that Wesker had used his first name. He creeps to the bedside, clears his throat and yells.

"WAKE UP!!"

The once sleeping Chris yells out in shock and swings his arms wildly, trying to ward off the attacking noise. His vibrant eyes gaze about, and Wesker frowns as he notices the change in them. From the deep blue, they have turned a mixture of Wesker's own gold and red, and Steve's green and silver. _Remarkable__…_ Wesker smiles. _The combination of the viruses have caused two changes so far, but what else? Has he become insane? Will he even be able to use a gun anymore?_

"Who are you people?" Chris blinked at Steve, and then at Wesker, wondering why he suddenly feels the rather random urge to either tear the Blonde's eyes out or rip out his small intestine and garrotte the man with it.

"I'm Steve." He gives a little wave. The confused brunette returns the wave.

"Hi Steve…"

"And that guy -" here Steve turns and points at Wesker in the corner, the shade perched precariously on top of the blonde gelled hair, "Is called Dickwad."

"Hi Dick-"

"Don't finish that sentence." Wesker barks at Chris. "My name is Wesker."

"Why do I have an urge to stab your face? Or to bite off your ears?"

"Wow…I think he hates you Wezzy." Steve grins.

Wesker frowns. He hadn't been anticipating this. If the man could still remember his feelings towards others, then the moment he saw Valentine, his hard work could be ruined. The memories could return…Not good. "Tell me, do you remember your name?"

"Of course I do. It's…" Chris pauses, searching his memory. _How can I not know my own name?!_ "Uh…"

"Didn't think so. Your name is -"

"Retard!"

"No it's not, if you don't stay quiet Steve, I may be forced to shoot you." Wesker turns his attention back to the confused brunette. "Your name is Chris."

"Chris…" _It sounds right__…__Must be my name. _Chris smiles. "It feels like it's my name."

"That's because it is, retard." Steve snorts.

"Is that meant to be an insult?" Chris inquires. "If so, it was a terribly bad one. Here's one. Go screw your mother, Ginger."

Steve stares at Chris like he's insane. "You did not just say that to me."

"I think I just did."

"Wesker, did you -"

"I heard Steve, stay calm. Breathe. And leave the room." Wesker slips the shades down onto his eyes, not interested in how Redfield is still capable of making everyone around him angry.

Steve grumbles to himself and stomps past Wesker, muttering darkly, leaving Chris and Wesker alone.

"Why can't I remember anything Wesker?"

"You'll get your memory back." the blonde man lies easily, the words flowing naturally as his voice remains cool and distant.

"How? In bits? Or what?"

"I won't know. You'll just have to see. Now, I presume you would like to be doing something other than wondering things about yourself. Come with me, we'll see if you can remember how to shoot a gun."

"What's a gun?"

"…This is going to take a lot of work…"

--

_So far so good. He hasn't exhibited the urge to kill any human's we've passed, which is more than Steve did at first. Can't believe he tried to eat someone. Don't think the woman ever got over that. I think I had to remove her…My memory fails me today. Joy._

Wesker pushes open the door to the shooting range. The various lab techs and other such people had scrambled to remove themselves from Wesker and Chris's path on their way up. No one wanted to get on his bad side, considering all the rumours flying about that he let Steve eat unruly workers. Not true, of course, but fear always made people willing to work just that little harder…

Chris walks in behind him, frowning. He'd smiled at everyone on the way past but hadn't gotten one happy look in return. The place, he realised, and the people, stunk of fear and something he couldn't describe. _Maybe I should ask Wesker? He seems to know his way about the place quite well. Maybe he lives here._

Inside, the lights flare on automatically, lighting up the white-walled room. Its long and thin, and generally large, and at the furthest end there's several dozen targets set up in various shapes of BOW's and human's alike.

Against one wall, a counter juts out, and a storage room behind conceals all the weaponry used within this training area.

"Lets start off easy." Wesker suggests, leaving Chris standing at the desk while he enters the storage room, coming back with a black angular _thing _which somehow looked familiar to Chris.

"This is a gun, Chris." Wesker says slowly, as if speaking to a retarded child, setting it down on the counter top. "Do you know what make of gun it is?"

Chris leans over the counter, gazing at it. "It's…it's a fully customized Samurai Edge, only members of the Special Tactics And Rescue Squad have them, this one belonged to…"He stops, his memory suddenly cutting out on him. _I remembered something! But why can__'__t I remember who it belonged to? And what the heck is the Special Tactics And Rescue Squad, and why do I know what gun they used?_

Wesker smiles slightly. _He__'__s remembering already. But it seems only in spurts. He doesn__'__t remember me yet. I__'__m not sure if that__'__s good or bad, considering__…__for now, lets see if he__'__s retained the skills which earned him a place in my team in the first place__…_"Correct. Pick up the gun. Load it." He sets down a full clip beside the gun and waits.

Chris picks it up, lifts the gun, and loads it in one smooth motion, the gun feeling slightly familiar in his hand, and yet it's a wholly experience at the same time. The grip feels rough, the trigger smooth, the weight light and yet somehow he remembered it being heavier last time he held it -

_- flames licking up the walls, beams crashing down around them as the labs blew under them, a woman screaming his name as he turns and fires at an unholy beast of decay and rot-_

He gasps and clutches the gun tightly, one hand grabbing at the counter, cold to the touch. Wesker peers at him over the top of the glasses and its now Chris sees what his eyes look like. A fiery red and gold combination, almost designed to strike fear into the hearts of the weak, but Chris sees only normal eyes. Somehow, they seem natural to him, and he suddenly wonders if his own are like that. _For that matter what do I look like?_

"Chris?" Wesker's voice drags him back to the present.

"I…I'm fine…this gun…it's mine…isn't it?"

Wesker nods. "Indeed it is Chris, you remembered."

"I remember something else too…I was in…it was dark, and there was smoke, and fire, and there was a woman, she called for me, and I shot something…" Chris looks down at the floor. "I was scared of something…and I don't know what."

Wesker nods, realising Chris is reliving recent memories of the lab explosion, moments before he himself had caught up with the weak human that Chris had been. "Your memory seems to be coming in small sections. They seem to be influenced by what your doing at the time. This is all familiar to you because you've done it before. Therefore you will likely trigger memories of doing such exercises."

"Did you know me before?" Chris asks suddenly. "You seems to know more about me than I do…which isn't a lot. I don't even know what I look like right now…"

"You don't? I'll have to show you to a mirror later then. Right now, I want you to take the gun and shoot the targets."

"Which ones?"

Wesker smirks. "Which ever ones you feel deserve it."

Chris nods, "Yes sir." and makes his way to the edge of the range. Behind the desk, Wesker flips a switch and the targets shudder into motion.

Within moments, Chris runs empty and Wesker can't help but shake his head when he sees the brunettes hand darting down to where there had once been an ammo pouch filled with clips.

"Tell me Chris, why did you shoot everything that wasn't human?"

"It felt like the right choice Wesker." Chris turns his mismatched eyes to Wesker's still form. "I felt like I was protecting something important by killing them."

Wesker gazes at him impassively, his expression still as stone, revealing nothing about his thoughts.

"Wesker…who am I?"


	6. Chapter 6

-1

Chapter Dedication: To Emerald and Mr. Death, for setting up PM, without whom I wouldn't have so much fun on the net. Thanks guys, from everyone at PM! Thanks to Ryan for helping me so much with this chapter, ILU! And theres a little shout out to a person on DA on here, see if you can guess who…

--

"This is someone who's about to make you an offer…you can't refuse."

Carlos frowns, and pulls the phone away from his ear. He glares at it as if it just threatened to blow up in his face. Slowly, he returns it to his ear, the frown deepening as he listens.

"As I'm sure you are aware, there is someone who plans on reviving a certain Bio-weapon's giant under their command -"

"Wesker." Carlos spits out the word like a cops spits out masticated donut when chasing speeding cars.

"Yes. However, the company I represent does not wish this to happen." There's a pause, and Carlos waits for her to continue. "It's come to our attention that there are now several human BOW's in existence. We believe that upon capture and dissection, we would be able to find a way to stop them once and for all."

"Dissection?"

"I presume you understand the word Mr. Oliveira? We plan to put an end to Umbrella's experiments, but we can't do that without the specimens…"

There's another pause.

"God, you're slow." the woman's voice sounds annoyed. "We want you to go to their HQ and get the specimens to us. This way, we all win."

"I'm sorry." Carlos gives a nervous chuckle. "I think I misheard you. You want us to steal _live_ Umbrella experiments and deliver them to you? I think you're on the crazy pills."

"Oh really? Finding out what makes the BOW's tick could be the key to taking down Wesker, and we all know that's really all your group want. Take down Wesker, take down the last remnants of Umbrella."

Carlos's breath hitches in his throat. "So it's possible then? By why contact me? Why not Jill?"

"You were the only one we could be sure would see sense. The other's are too intent upon helping only themselves."

"That's not true…they want to help everyone by bringing down Umbrella."

"You believe what you want to, handsome. Now, do we have a deal or do I have to contact a different group?"

Carlos stays silent as he think s about it for a moment. Finally, he gives his answer. "I'll do it."

"Perfect. Within the next few months, you'll receive a series of envelopes. You'll be given a place to collect the envelope, and you, and only you, must collect it from the messenger there. You mustn't show the others the information until you have it all. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Good. Inside the envelopes will be several floor plans, an address, information on various aspects of the building you'll be infiltrating. Pass codes, the works. Even a fake ID if your lucky."

He can hear the laughter in her voice.

"How do I know -"

"That the messenger won't kill you? You don't."

"I was going to say how do I know you won't just take control of the BOWs."

"Do you really believe that human BOWs would listen to anyone other than themselves? The best place for them is on a morgue slab."

"I couldn't agree more." Carlos grins.

"Good. Now, this conversation never happened. You'll receive information on the first envelope in the next week. Until then Mr. Oliveira." A small laugh and then the line goes dead.

Carlos hangs up his end and slips the phone into his breast pocket, wondering what the hell he'd just got them all into, and if there was going to be another potential Umbrella because of him.

--

Jill curls into her pillow, fisting the covers, moaning weakly in her sleep. "Chris…"

_The STARS office was deliciously warm, the sun coming in through the half shuttered windows, a breeze slightly disturbing the paperwork littered all over the desks. At one, Enrico muttered down a phone, ordering new uniforms apparently. Wesker was absent, unusual, but then he'd taken a few of the unruly members of both teams with him for some assault course training in the RPD's gym. Brad typed away on his computer, smiling happily for once._

_At another desk, Chris was sitting on top of some of Jill's paperwork, and she didn't dare pull at it, else it would rip and she's have to start all over again. He was joking about haven eaten the cafeteria's bean casserole only an hour before, and everyone knew where the gas form that came out. Brad turned in his seat. "Hey Chris, I have some matches here if you wanna light it."_

_Chris burst out laughing. "That's the funniest ting I've heard you say Brad." he grinned, wiping away a fake tear. Brad just beamed at him, delightfully happy about not being called ChickenHeart or ChickenShit._

"_Hey Jill, why do you always wear this thing?" Chris chuckled as he grabbed the light blue beret off Jill's head, fluffing the hair slightly in the process._

"_Hey! Chris!" She shot him a glare as he slipped it onto his own messy brown locks. "Give it back!"_

"_But I like it!" he whined, pouting, knowing she couldn't resist ' The Pout'. "But seriously. A STARS hat? I didn't know you loved the job that much."_

"_I love my job Chris, but that's not why I wear it…the beret was a gift from my dad. I just had the logo put on it so I can wear it at work. It's my lucky beret." she smiled. Chris did look rather dashing with it, maybe she should add a black marker curling moustache to him for the full effect._

"_That's…that real sweet Jill." Chris smiled, eyes twinkling. His smile had a hint of sadness to it as he reached into his shirt's breast pocket and pulled out a heavy gold lighter. "This was my dad's…pretty much all I have left of my parents. Claire has this necklace that was mom's."_

"_Speaking of this sister, you said she was going to be paying a visit, when is that? I'm the only person in the office who hasn't met her yet." Jill frowned._

"_Oh, soon. Think she said this week or something."_

_Suddenly, the door burst open and standing at the entrance way to the office was a hulking grey beast, its massive herniated heart protruding from its chest, the clawed hand raised and ready to swipe at her-_

"_Jill, NO!" Suddenly, she was sent flying, hitting the side of a wall, as the dream changed from the office she knew and loved to the hated heliport of the Spencer Mansion. She turned her face back to see the Tyrant - and Chris, impaled upon the deformed hand, blood spilling form his mouth, pouring from the wound, covering the spiked appendage and the heliport platform._

"_CHRIS!" she screamed, scrambling to her feet, reaching for her gun._

"_Jill…" he gasped, blood leaking from his mouth with every word. "Run…"_

_Suddenly she was running through the Raccoon forest, no memory of how she got there, only the image of Chris being impaled replayed in her mind over and over again. _

_She could hear the Tyrant thundering along behind her, gaining on her, its feet pounding at the damp soil, kicking up the rotting leaves, and at it's heels, the hound monsters, the Cerberus dogs, the guards of hell, intent of feasting on whatever the Tyrant left behind._

_She came to a sudden stop when she runs into solid muscle. Her first thought was that the Tyrant had somehow cut across her path, but when she lifted her eyes to meet her doom head on, she found her eyes locked onto a pair of black sunglasses. Before she could identify the wearer, they had moved, picking her up, setting her down at the side, and taking on the mutant dogs and Tyrant in hand to hand combat. With in seconds, the dogs were dead and the Tyrant lying in shredded pieces on the floor of the forest, left to rot with the browning leaves._

_Her hero turned to face her, and she gasped, heart swelling with relief and joy and other delightful emotions. It was Chris! He was alive! He opened his arms wide and she fell into them, beaming, laughing with joy. She tilted her face up to his and lifted a hand to remove the glasses, but it was caught before they could. _

"_Jill…" he stopped, then let go of her hand. She touched the glasses, then removed them. They hit the floor with a muffled sound, as Jill stepped back, out of the embrace, hands going up to her mouth in horror an disbelief. _

"_No…"_

_His left pupil was a black slit in an explosion of red and gold, while his right was a calming combination of silver and green._

"_Chris…no…"_

_He reached for her. "Jill please…"_

_Her back hit against something, and she spun around. It was Chris, he'd moved so fast she hadn't had time to see - _

"_What's wrong, Jilly?" he hissed, stepping forwards, his voice changing, the green and silver eye changing to match the other, his brown hair lightening to a light blonde- "Something wrong?"_

"_Wesker!" she gasped and stumbled backwards, terrified as her ex-Captain laughed, stalking towards her as a tiger would it's fallen prey. She cried out for someone, anyone, someone to save her, but it was too late, too late as the blow came, heading straight for her-_

Jill jumps, awake and alive. She stares at the concerned face beside hers, a hand gently touching her face. It's Carlos.

"Hey, you okay chica?" he asks softly, "You called out my name, then you screamed so quietly, it was…unnatural. Nightmare?"

She nods slowly. _I called for Carlos? Is it really so surprising? He's always there for me…_

"Want to talk about it?"

"Sure…It started out nice…me and Chris in the STARS office back in Raccoon…" Jill tells him of the dream, pausing occasionally, most hesitantly where Chris had become Wesker. It had been one thing that Chris had feared above all else, so why had she dreamed it? She questions Carlos about Wesker.

"Wait…Chris's eyes…why would you dream up something like that? And the sunglasses?" he shudders. "Maybe you just had something bad to eat?"

"I dunno Carlos…this whole thing has me worried. What if Wesker's planning something? Without Chris, we might just fall apart, and then we're just easy pickings…"

Carlos pulls Jill into a comforting embrace, partly to comfort her, partly to hide his pained expression. "Don't worry about it. He won't lay a finger on you so long as I'm around, I promise."


	7. Chapter 7

-1

Chris sits alone in his own room, on the edge of his bed, the room pretty plain looking, mostly white. Steve, whilst guiding him to it, had told him that he would be able to decorate it in anyway he wished. He kneads his forehead with his knuckles, eyes shut, frowning.

"_Wesker…Who am I?"_

"_You are yourself Chris. "_

"_No, that's not what I mean. Why can't I remember anything? How do you know me? What happened to me?"_

"_I don't know. You'll just have to find out through your memories. Now, moving on, Steve will show you to your quarters…"_

Getting to his room hadn't been the problem. Getting Steve to stop talking for even a moment had. The ginger teen had talked…and talked…and talked. Chris had been quite happy to listen, but eventually he had to get the boy to shut up long enough to tell him to leave while he took a shower.

The sight in the mirror, however, had stopped him going any further.

_One of my eyes…the left, it's the double of Wesker's. But the right one, it's exactly like Steve's. What the hell's going on? Am I related to them? Are we brothers? Does Wesker not want to tell me anything that'll upset me because of that?_

Chris growls in frustration. No one seemed to be intent on telling him anything anytime soon. He stands up, stretching out his muscles. Time for that shower, then something to settle the hungry noises form his stomach.

The white t-shirt hit the floor, followed by his jeans. He's surprised to find he had underwear on, so it must have been common for him not to wear any before his memory loss. He removes them and tosses the white boxers over beside the other discarded clothes. _Whoever was organising this place for me really liked white. Wonder if I can buy my own clothes? I don't even know if I have any cash. Hell, I don't even know where the nearest store is, Steve probably does…_He shook his head and ran a hand through his brown hair, frowning at the length. _A haircut is definitely in order, I'm starting to look like Forest - _

He froze, hand midway through the shoulder length hair. "Forest…" he muttered. He knew the name, knew he had long brown hair, knew Forest and he were good friends, but he remembered nothing else. Not his face, his mannerisms…nothing.

"For god's sake, why can't I remember anything?!" Chris kicks the bed in anger, leaping back when the whole thing is sent slamming into the other side of the room. "…Fuck." _Control, its all about control, keep the temper under wraps. Breath, count, anything to remain calm…And take that god damned shower already._

"I'll move the bed back afterwards." He announces to the room, glancing at the blocked door, suddenly imagining Steve or Wesker walking in then _WHAM _right onto the bed. Funny, but for some reason, Chris gets the feeling Wesker wouldn't be too pleased.

Chris walks into the en suite bathroom and shuts the door behind him, stepping into the shower and sliding the partially see-through door shut after him. Turning the water on, he lets the ice cold water cascade over him, shivering, thinking about…nothing. A twist of the dial, and the water's pressure increases, pounding down onto his skin, his hair. Another dial is turned and the water's temperature rises. He rests his head against the cool glass, closing his eyes and breathing in the warm steam as water cascades down his back. "Please…" _please let me remember…let me remember who I am…_

His breath hitches in his throat suddenly and his hand flies out to the side of him seeking for something to grab hold of as his legs give way, and he collapses as the world turns dark about him…

--

Wesker paces his office impatiently, a slight frown barely visible upon his forehead, hovering above the dark shades. "Where is he? I told him to report back once he'd cleaned himself up."

Steve watches Wesker pace, head moving back and forth along with the senior BOW. _If he keeps this up, they'll be a hole in the rug. And it'll say: Wesker's still walking here somewhere just gotta find him_. _Check China._ "What are you worried about? It's not like anything would have happened to him."

Wesker pauses in his frenzied pacing, the very notion chilling him to the core. _The viruses, the combination might not be stable…and I've left him alone!_

"Wez-"

Wesker shoots Steve a cold look that reaches the teen through the glasses and makes him quiver in silent fear. The blonde stalks past him and flicks a switch on his intercom. "Krauser, Wong, are you there?"

Silence.

"Krauser! Wong! If either of you fail to answer me again, you shall find yourselves at the bottom of a very deep ditch." he hisses. Almost immediately Krauser's slightly breathless voice is at the other end.

"Sorry sir," he huffs. "Just had to take care of some-THING!" Steve gapes at the intercom. Krauser's voice cuts off sharply, and he's heard hissing something at someone else in the room.

"Krauser what the hell are you doing?" Wesker snaps impatiently.

"I'm…honing my skills?" the American says vaguely.

"Enough. I want you to get to room fifteen. On the double. Redfield must be brought to the infirmary if there anything wrong with him. Move it."

"Yes sir!" Krauser cuts off. Wesker turns to Steve. "Get up. If he's -"

"If he's what Wesker? God, I thought you hated the guy! Suddenly he's all you care about!" Steve rants, glaring at Wesker. "You'd never bat an eyelid if I was five minutes late! Suddenly he's become the most important person in the world to you!" Wesker just stays silent, waiting for the end of the rant before making his opinion known. "I did everything to earn your respect! I went on missions! I killed people, people you ordered dead. I stole data, I fought, I shot, I trained…I did everything you asked of me…" The teen looks at Wesker desperately seeking some word of comfort, a simple acknowledgment of what he did for the man who saved his life. "Everything. And you never acted like you gave a shit about me. Suddenly, your worst enemy becomes your best friend…What about me Al?"

Wesker opens his mouth but Steve's already walking away.

"What about me?" he asks the blonde man, walking out the room.

Wesker can only watch him go, not really understanding what Steve had meant, but knew he had to look into it. Perhaps treat him better in future. It would never do to have a BOW turn against him. For now though, he had to get to the infirmary, in case something was wrong with Chris - _Redfield_ he corrects himself.

--

Krauser opens the door to room fifteen and immediately falls flat on his face on something soft and comfortable. _Well at least it's not the guys body, Wesker'd freak if I brought him back dead._ Pushing himself up, he frowns as he realises it's a bed. And from the dent in the metal side, visible even from his position, he can tell it had been kicked across the room some time in the past. He stands and pushes it back where it belongs, raising an eyebrow at the sound of running water. _Must be in the shower. Wonder if he's drowning?_ He walks over to the bathroom door, knocking.

Nothing.

He frowns, knocking again, yet there's still no answer. Krauser pushes the handle down and slips inside. He can see the body of a man crumpled beyond the frosted glass, unmoving. He curses and pulls open the sliding door, catching the top half of the body as it falls back. _Unconscious but still alive, better get him to the infirmary._

--

When Krauser kicks open the infirmary doors, carrying a dripping, unconscious and barely covered Chris, Wesker orders the new BOW to be set on a gurney.

Krauser watches as Wesker fusses over Chris, sticking him with pointy things, or at least that's about as far as he can see. He knows almost nothing about sickness and illness, other than they're bad, and if it's bleeding you can bandage it.

Other than a bruise, Chris seems fine to Wesker, and his vitals are as normal, better in fact, as he expected. The only thing wrong was Chris's low blood sugar. He sighs and pushes the sunglasses back down his face. _I forgot to warn him about eating high energy foods. At least he'll learn this way._

"He'll be fine, he just needs to eat." He announces to the room.

"Great, can I go now?" Krauser grumbles. Wesker nods, and Krauser literally flees the scene.

_Where's he rushing off to, I wonder?_

--

Krauser slides back the door to his room, removing his beret and throwing it onto the nearest bedside table, stretching out his arms, cracking his spine slightly. Redfield weighed a fair bit surprisingly. _Time to relax a while._

The skin tight top is peeled off and tossed to the floor as he peels back the covers and sits on the bed, removing socks and other such nuisances like trousers. Slipping between the sheets, he relaxed into the warmth, and pulled his bed warmer closer.

"Welcome back Jack."


	8. Chapter 8

-1_"Chris?"_

"_Yeah Jill?"_

"_Did you ever…"_

"_Ever what?"_

"_Ever wonder what will happen to us…"_

"_Us?"_

"_After we've finished with Umbrella…"_

"_Oh…No…I haven't. I guess it never really crossed my mind…"_

"_Barry has a family, Chris. He can't stay away from them forever. He wants to see them grow up."_

"_I know Jill, I realise that…"_

"_And Rebecca, she's just a kid. She's got her whole life ahead of her…"_

"_Jill…What are you saying?"_

"_Chris…maybe it's time to stop fighting. Hand it over to people who can actually do it, who have the funds and equipment."_

"_We can't give up now! I mean, what about Wes -"_

"_What about him Chris? You're obsessed with him. I know what he did, you don't have to remind me, I was there that night too…but you…you can't let go of it."_

"_Because of that monster, our friends are dead, Jill!"_

"_Chris, let someone else take care of him. I want to settle down."_

"_Jill…"_

"_I want a real life Chris, one with you in it. When we're still fighting this, there's the chance I'll lose you and everything else."_

"_Jill, you won't lose me, I promise."_

"_How can you promise that Chris? Every time we go out to take down a base, or chase up information, I'm scared that this time he will kill you."_

"_If we just stop fighting, he won't care, he'll still come after us, he'll still make attempts on our lives. We can't stop, not until he's dead. I'm sorry Jill, but that's the way it has to be…"_

"_Then there's no way we can take this any further…I'm sorry Chris…it's over…"_

_--_

_There's no words to say now, its dead silent. The air in the cabin is filled with tension, both from previous conversations and from pre-mission tension. They fly in silently, no team mate looking at another. The copter lands and they step out, the pilot signalled to stay airborne but close, in case they need a quick evac._

_A signal from One and they're off, moving stealthily to the entrance, keeping to the camera's blind spots. The facility may have been abandoned by Umbrella less than a day ago, but there were other's here who would kill them on sight, if not for food then for vengeance against spoilt plans. Two and Three enter the hallway, checking for signs of life._

_None._

_The rest of the team enter and pause to take stock of their surroundings and secure the area. The once white and grey walls are splattered with blood and gore. They've learned never to look at the gore too closely, to forget the messes and grunge were once living breathing creatures. _

_The scouts enter the next room, the team left behind remaining quiet as One checks the computer at the desk. _

_Wiped._

_A sudden noise in the room ahead makes the leader freeze. He attempts to contact the scouting team members, but he only gets static. A split second later he's made the decision. He signals Four to the door's left, Five to its right. A moment later, the three burst in, guns primed and ready to take down any menace._

_Three's lying on the floor, motionless, but breathing, but Two's pinned to a bloodstained wall by a very familiar figure…_


	9. Chapter 9

-1

This one's for Bunnyzilla, for putting up with all my shit. Thanks bud…

--

"…and the barman says to the horse, why the long face?" The training room fills with loud, hooting laughter.

"Oh god, Steve, you crack me up." Chris chuckles, wiping a tear from the left side of his face, squeezing the gold and orange eye open and shut again. "Where do you come up with these?"

The ginger BOW shrugs. "Internet."

"Ah, I dunno, I doubt that. What do you think Jack?" He looks over at the muscular BOW, who cocks his head to the side and looks at Steve.

"I think he reads some weird shit and just repeats it so he sounds like something other than a broken record."

"Hey! I do not sound like a broken record, JK! …Right Chris?" the teen looks assumingly at the marksman, pouting.

"Hey, I'm not getting into this fight. You two love birds go sort this out in a different room" he chuckles as a barrage of insults and denials is thrown at him. He waves it away, smiling still.

It's been three weeks since Chris fainted in the shower. Since then, he like the other BOW's has kept a supply of high energy food bars on him at all times. Wesker explained that because of their higher metabolism, they needed to take in large amounts of food and more often than others. Chris understands he and the others are something other than human but the notion seems almost novel to him. He barely notices his enhanced senses anymore, thanks to Wesker's teachings. He's learning to control the strength with help from Krauser, and Steve helps him ensure he doesn't crash into walls…

--

"_I want the report by Monday, Steve. I need to know how Chris is coping."_

"_Well, he seems to be doing well. Better than I did at any rate." The ginger teen grinned at the blonde, who looked ahead, unamused._

"_If you mean not crashing into walls at every turn, or trying to tear scientists limb from limb when they were attempting to help you, then yes, he's doing far better than you."_

_Steve opened his mouth to reply when the wall to his right was hit by something from the other side, creating a rather large dent…a rather large…Chris…shaped…dent._

_Steve stared at it for a moment, hearing a loud groan from the other side as something heavy fell away and landed hard. "Whoa…"_

"_It's like your first days all over again." Wesker commented. "Except this time, you're the teacher." he slapped Steve's shoulder with a gloved hand and walked off._

--

Chris walks out the gym, waving a goodbye to his workout mates as the doors slid shut behind him. He has a small while towel slung around his neck, and his green t-shirt clings to his chest, stretching across the muscles. His black tracksuit bottoms weren't as tight, comfy and loose, trainers on his feet making a slight squeak with his every step.

The tune of whatever Steve had been playing is running through his head, and he can't help but hum it, even if it is mildly annoying and repetitive. He sighs and tries to rid himself of it, trying to summon up another song in its place, but to no avail. Apparently he can't even remember his music tastes either.

He stiffens slightly, the hairs on the back of his neck rising as someone approaches from the shadowed end of the hallway. A small growl escapes him and before he can stop himself, he's sped along the hallway and leaping on the other, tackling the strange entity to the ground.

He's kicked off and the other stands up, as Chris prepares to attack again…

--

Wesker gets to his feet, astonished that Redfield had tried to attack him. _Does he remember?! No! It__'__s far too soon!_

One look at the other BOW and Wesker immediately sees the problem. _He__'__s feral. Completely feral. What triggered this?!_ He has no time to think further on it however as the crazed BOW snarls and charges at him, intent on spilling blood. He barely has time to move out the way of the blows when one catches the wall at his side. His eyes take in the damage to the steel in a split-second, the rugged hole left behind when the other pulls his fist out, ignoring the pain of cut skin. As Wesker watched, the skin knitted itself back together. _Impossible__…__Neither Steve nor I can heal so fast__…__The combined viruses must have something to do with it, or the fact he - The eyes__…_

Wesker's attention is drawn to the feral BOW's eyes. Normally, the left was orange and gold, the right silver and green…Gold and orange tendrils are tainting the green and silver iris. It's half consumed by the fiery colours…

A snarl brings him back to the present and he dived out the way of another devastating punch, his glasses flying off. He remains calm however; confident he will be the inevitable victor.

Until something happens that he didn't expect.

Another blow sails past him as he dodges easily, then something brushes past his cheek. That something protrudes from Redfield's chest…

_Impossible! _

Another erupts from Redfield and Wesker lifts his arm, twisting away from it. More keep coming…

He can't move any further, not without breaking one of the spikes, and he doesn't want to do that, too much of a risk concerning Redfield's life, the BOW would bleed to death. But he can see the skin rippling where another spike will appear. If that happens, he'll have to retaliate.

The spike shoots out, and Redfield's face twists in pleasure, smirking as Wesker fights back a pained noise. For Wesker, being impaled once by a Tyrant was far too many. This…he can not allow.

The feral BOW abruptly stops smirking and starts snarling when the blonde one begins to pull himself up the spike towards its origin.

"I've wanted to do this for so long Redfield." he growls, drawing back his fist and slamming it into his old comrade's chest.

For a second, nothing happens, then the brunette is hurled away from Wesker, the spikes tearing themselves from the wall around Wesker, and from his chest. He falls onto one knee, one hand on the floor, another on the hole, holding back the organs as the repair process begins, slowly.

He lifts his head, focusing on the still body of Redfield. Wesker frowns when he sits up; wondering if the other was still up for more. He immediately realises something's different when he gets closer, still covering his wound. Redfield's eyes are normal, or rather, back to being entirely different. His expression is no longer blood thirsty and feral.

"…Wesker?" Chris stares at him. "What happened?"

Before Wesker can respond, Chris falls back, crying out, gripping his chest.

"Nng…"

He turns his head to the side, and coughs violent, a spurt of blood coming out.

The last thing he sees as the darkness encompasses him is Wesker leaning over him, shouting soundlessly….

--

_Bright white light. Shining. . Everywhere._

_Silence._

_Noise._

_Tearing._

_Bright coloured paper._

_A gasp of joy._

"_Oh Chris! It's wonderful! It's just like yours! It's got the angel and the words and everything!"_

_A tight embrace…of…love?_

_Laughter. Deep...From him?_

"_I told you I'd get you it for you were patient enough. I have something else for you too…"_

"_But Chris, the jacket's enough, surely!"_

"_Come on." _

_Footsteps. _

_A door opening._

_A near scream of utter delight and joy._

"_You got me a bike!"_

_More laughter and embracing._

"_Here's the keys. Promise me you'll be careful, and you can keep both."_

"_I promise, I swear!"_

_Keys jangle as they're handed over._

"_It's yours. Take care of it at collage, and yourself."_

_A face swam into view._

_Blue eyes._

_Brown hair._

_Ponytail._

_A look of utter joy on her features._

_The name comes and fades._

"_Cl…"_

_The darkness returns…_

_--_

_More bright light._

_Wing beats._

"_Oh Chris, what have you done now?"_

_A soft caring voice._

_A familiar voice._

_Something soft touches his face._

_He lifts a hand to hold it there._

"_Don't….don't go…please."_

_Pain. So much pain._

"_I won't ever leave you, not truly."_

_A soft hand on his bare chest, above his heart._

"_I'm always there…Never doubt me Chris. "_

"_N-never…"_

"_I love you."_

_He opened his eyes and a face swam before him. One different than before._

_Short brown hair._

_So beautiful._

"_I'll never let you go, Chris." _

_A flash of blue clothing and white wings, and his angel was gone._

_The darkness closed over him once again…_


	10. Chapter 10

-1

I think this one should go to Rose-Strife and SlayterWesker on DA cause they both kick SO much ass. You should go have a prod at them. Now -pokes-

--

Claire lies awake. She can't sleep. She doesn't know why, because she's certainly tired enough to fall asleep.

It's just that her mind won't let her.

She's tried singing to herself. For an hour. That didn't work.

She's counted sheep but by the time she got to three thousand, she was so wide awake, a cup of coffee couldn't have done a better job.

She's tried thinking of something to dream about, but its not helpful when you starting thinking of monsters.

She rolls onto her side, gazing at the clock, the one that glows an obnoxious green in the darkness of the room. It helpfully displays the time, unsurprisingly, with the date and month in the corner.

What little tiredness there is in her mind is jolted away.

It's almost two years since Chris died.

Two years without her big brother.

Two years without his comforting embrace.

The display changes.

Midnight, plus one minute.

Two years to the day since Chris died.

She sighs and rolls over again, trying to get away from the bright glare of the clock, her heart giving a painful twinge.

It's always an awkward day. No one knows what to say. No one knows what to do.

But every time, it gets a little less awkward. A little less…unnatural.

It's the same with his birthday.

But both days will be lost to the soon.

Claire knows it all to well.

The same thing happened when their…her…parents died. They soon forgot the pain, and they learned to live without them.

They are all slowly forgetting Chris.

But Claire will not forget.

--

Something's wrong with Jill.

Claire can tell from the way she's hunched over a cup of ice cold coffee, dark black bags drooping down from her eyes, hair lank and dirty about her pale features.

Something is wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.

So she asks.

"Jill, what's wrong?"

--

Someone's speaking to her. She lifts her head, looking at the speaker with exhausted eyes. It's Claire.

"What?"

"I said, what's wrong? You look awful."

Before she can answer, the front door bursts open, the resounding _bang_ of it sends a flash of pain through her skull.

She whimpers, clutching her throbbing head. It hurts. Maybe she shouldn't have drunk so much last night…But she had to, there'd been no other way to -

"I found him!"

--

Carlos bursts in the front door, waving a package, breathless and frantic, waving the brown thing like a storm survivor waving at a ship in the distance.

"I found him!"

He slams the door shut behind him, throwing the package on the table. Its contents spill out as it skids over the marked surface.

Maps, schematics, codes, diagrams, pages of text…

"I found Wesker!"

The exhausted expression on Jill's face drops away and a determined one replaces it. "Then we go after him."

"What about Rebecca and Barry?"

Jill looks up at Claire, frowning.

"We wait for them then. But we have to be ready."

Claire locks eyes with Jill.

_We'll make him pay._

They both will.

--

Her hands are shaking as she runs them over the holsters, feeling the smooth, clean metal beneath her questing finger tips.

They're finally doing it.

Going after Wesker.

Something she'd dreamt about since the team had come home without him, Jill sobbing her broken heart out on Carlos' shoulder, Rebecca, mute and tense. Barry had told her, and she just…

Her hand closes over the belt and she pulls it from the drawer, lifting out the knife from its leather sheath, gently setting the material on her bed as she found the cleaning cloth beside it.

One last clean before they set off.

One last clean before the silver metal becomes stained in infected blood.

--

Barry looks over the maps spread out before him.

"You're sure about this information?"

Carlos nods.

"Where did you get it?"

"A reliable source, trust me on that."

Barry eyes him, frowning slightly.

"Carlos, are you sure about-"

"Yes! Now what do you think? Can we get in there?"

Barry glances back at the papers.

"We can avoid the mass of scientists and guards on the upper levels, if we can get in undetected. It says here-" he points to a section of text he'd highlighted on another piece of paper. "-that 'the Human BOWs inhabit the two underground bottom levels.' There are three levels beneath the surface." he pointed again at the map. "Which means we have to traverse through two levels before we get near Wesker." He sighed heavily. "There's something else that bothers me…"

"What?"

"It says…Human BOWs. Plural. I think…Claire's friend…I think he might be there too."

"And if she sees him…" Carlos frowned.

"It might compromise the mission."

"So what do we do?"

--

Her fist slams down on the table, thumping it, all the anger she feels channelling down into the limb, into the nails biting into her palm. Tears gather at the edges of her sight, but she blinks the away angrily.

"You can't leave me here! I'm not staying! I have to go!"

"Look Claire, it's far to dangerous for-"

"For me to go? And every other god damn mission wasn't? Chris didn't think so! Chris knew I could handle myself!"

"Not on his last mission he didn't! He didn't take you for a reason!"

"Don't give me that shit Barry! I am more than capable of looking after myself and you damn well know it!"

Jill covers her ears and retreats into her room, not wanting to watch this confrontation, so like the last one the siblings had had before he left…

The arguing pair don't notice the door shutting, the soft sound inaudible over their yells.

"You're not going and that's final!" Barry slams his own fist down on the table, eyes blazing. "Chris would agree with me!"

"You don't know what he would say because he's dead and it's your fault!"

She spins around and storms into her own room, tears freely running down her face.

"Barry… you might have a little harsh on her…" Carlos touches the big man's shoulder, turning to face him. He's a little shocked to see him with a tear running down his cheek. "Barry, it wasn't your fault. You know that. It was no one's fault. No one could have helped him."

Barry reaches up and wipes it away, blinking furiously. "Y-yeah, your right." but he couldn't help but think it was his fault. He was the closest…it was his responsibility.

--

She watches at the window as they drive off, wondering if she'll see them again.

There's every chance not a one of them will return, it's already happened before.

She wonders how much it'll hurt this time round.

Turning her head, she spies her bike keys hanging on the wall beside the door.

Her guns are loaded.

Her knife is clean.

The tank is full.

Time to take revenge.


	11. Chapter 11

-1

This one's especially for Telera, you'll see why, my dear…

--

The first thing he notices is the silence.

Then suddenly, sound rushes in.

Beeping. Familiar.

Snoring. Also familiar.

He opens his eyes and is assaulted by white light.

It fades, and as he blinks away the blurriness, he can see he's once again in the hospital wing. He turned his head to the side and spies the source of the snoring.

Steve is leaning back, head dangling, snoring loudly.

He smiles to himself, then drag his body upwards, forcing himself to sit up. There's a slight twinge in his chest as something catches, but otherwise he's fine. He puts a hand over the area he knew was hurting before, he can't remember why it hurt, just that it did.

The bed squeaks as he moves, and Steve wakes with a start, skin flushing green for a moment.

The redhead relaxes when he spots Chris, a relieved look on his face.

"Hey buddy, you had us all worried!" he stands up, stretching, skin paling again.

"What…what happened? I remember a lot of pain…and blood. Lots of blood. But nothing else."

Steve squints at him. "Well, from the little Wesker said, you and him fought about…something, and you got hurt pretty badly. Accidentally, I'm assuming -"

"Wait what? We fought? I don't remember that!"

"Chris I hate to say it but you don't really remember anything very well."

_He's got a point Y'know._ Chris looks down at his hands.

"You should have seen the fight scene. Blood everywhere, holes in the walls…Whatever you two were fighting about, it must have been something serious."

The brunette closes his eyes and sees flashes of…something. Red. Something tinged green…coming out his…chest.

A hand goes to feel the area, a frown growing on his face.

"It…something…it came out me…like…spikes." he struggles to express the memory in words, the whole thing a fuzzy mess, covered in hazy red mist.

"Spikes?" Steve asks sharply, remember the first few times Chris had awoken, how they had defended him viciously.

"Yeah. I think I hurt Captain Wesker pretty bad…"

"What?"

"I said I think I hurt Wesker pretty bad."

"…Yeah…he's fine now." Steve looks at him warily, registering the use of 'Captain' in his mind. He has to tell Wesker this.

--

The blonde sits at his desk, glasses folded in his pocket, eyes locked on the wooden surface before him, paperwork stacked neatly to one side, completed.

His chest twinges slightly and he frowns, coming out of his revere, placing a hand over the ailing area, for once not gloved.

_Chris Redfield…he always has more than one trick up his sleeve in tight spaces…But I hadn't been expecting those anomalies to return…_

Wesker himself had only been feral - _such a foul phrase -_ a maximum of three times before, and though his abilities had increased, they'd been no where near Chris's levels. It was almost…frightening.

_If he stays like that for longer than few hours at most…he could kill himself. His body, even when full of energy , would never have enough to sustain him. There must be some way to ensure I don't lose such a valuable pawn._

A knock at the door interrupts his thoughts, and he glances up, automatically slipping on the glasses and gloves as he calls permission for the person - or BOW - to enter.

The door opens and in steps someone he wasn't expecting to see. Chris.

"Wesker…I…I wanted to apologise for the fight…"

"There's no need Chris, you couldn't control yourself, therefore it wasn't your fault."

"Uh…" Chris pauses. "About that…what actually happened? I can't remember anything…"

"Anything?"

"Well, I can remember bits and pieces, like…something coming out of my chest a lot. And blood. Lots of blood."

Wesker nods slowly. "Most of it will likely remain a mystery to you-"

"Just like the rest of my life then."

Wesker looks at him over the top of his glasses.

"It will come to you, perhaps not any time soon, but one day it will."

As Chris looks down at the blonde man, he's struck by a bout of déjà vu, the Wesker in front of him changing slightly, his dark clothes becoming a subdued blue, his eyes from burning fire to freezing ice, the full length leather gloves on his hands shrinking back and showing finger tips, becoming half length, perfect for shooting. And there, on the blue shirt, just above the rolled up sleeves, a logo, in pale gold. He strains forwards to read it when Wesker's voice snaps him out of it.

"Chris! What are you doing?"

He blinks and the image is gone, replaced by the black-clothed man at the desk, suddenly a lot closer. Chris realises he'd been moving closer, trying read that insignia on his visions arm. He was leaning right over the desk now. No wonder Wesker was asking him what he was doing.

"Uh…" he pulls back so quickly he almost falls backwards, stumbling away. "I'm sorry, Captain, I didn't mean to stare, I was just-" he rambles, reaching for the door handle, not noticing Wesker's pale eyebrows rocket skywards as he spoke. "I'll just go-" and he disappears out the door before Wesker can speak a word.

"He's remembering…This isn't going to be my week." he sighs and frowns as his chest twinges again.

--

"_Ada?"_

"_Yes sir?"_

"How long?"  


"_How long…?"_

"_Till they are mine."_

"_Oliviera has the documents. Not long at all, sir."_

"_Good. I assume everything is in order? I have to get back to my research…"_

"_Of course Doctor Birkin, everything is as planned…"_


	12. Chapter 12

-1

_Shaded eyes survey the area around him, chairs and tables knocked over, lab coats scattered and various substances. It's slightly darker with them on, everything gaining a slight black tint. He barely notices however, body tense with excitement._

_Movement to his right. Target. Female, blonde, shorter than him, wickedly armed to the teeth, a knife on her shoulder, a holstered pistol and the other in her hand._

_One fast movement and the gun is knocked to the floor, and she's pinned to the wall_

_His grip around his captive's neck tightens, and she claws at his arm, the black gloved hand trying desperately to mark him in some way, to stop him, but to no avail. He can smell the sweat trickling down her spine, her brow, between her breasts, the fear coming from her like a sweet fragrance, sustaining him, feeding him strength. His hide eyes bore into her grey ones, hers, filled with fear, tears at the sides. Her blonde hair is dishevelled, messy…soft._

_He remembers it being so soft against his face, sweet smelling, like the shampoo she used in it, how he ran his fingers through it at night, pulling her close, remembers her eyes being not filled with fear but with love, lust, strength, courage. Why does she fear him? She shouldn't have to fear him, he's always been - _

_He lowers her down the wall, his grip loosening, letting her breath. He stands over her, his expression no longer uncaring, this new one of concern, worry, watching as she rubs her throat and coughs shakily. He opens his mouth, ready to ask her if she's alright, when something is jabbed into the space between his muscled shoulders._

"_Bang." A smug voice hisses in his ear. "Game over, boyo."_

_He stiffens, a shuddering change overcoming him, a vicious growl erupting from his throat, animalistic and feral, hands curving into fists._

_His arm twists behind him, grabbing the gun at his back, crushing the end, yanking the weapon from the shocked human's hands. He kicks it away as he turns, and his fist connects with the soft flesh of a face, feeling the delicate cartilage beneath the thin veneer twist and move to the side. He kneels beside the insentient human, hears it still breathing. _

_He stands up, back to her. The rest of the team has arrived, four more guns training on him. A snarl, filled with anger, hate, impatience. How dare they threaten him? _

_He hears the safety click off and losses it, diving for the nearest one, twisting the frail arm behind, up, till a light pop rings out, kicking away another member, sending them back into the remaining two. A swipe at his current prey's legs sends him crashing to the ground, a twisted frown coming to his face as he hears a kneecap shatter. He turns, spying the three rising from the ground, and he barrels into them, one careering over the room to slam into the wall, the cement crumbling around them as they fall to the ground, pieces falling on top as of the unconscious man. Two left. One backs away, fear evident in her blue eyes, a pleading look on her face as he advances towards her._

"_No-" too late, her plea is silenced as he grabs her by the flaming locks of her hair, twisting sharply, and she cries, stumbling forwards. He catches her, and another frantic plea is cut off as he head butts her, knocking her out, her body falling from his grip. One left, a dark haired one, staring at him, pale as a sheet. Before he can put up a fight, he's thrown to the ground, and a boot presses on his head. Hands latch on, trying to stop the downwards press, a frightened yell erupting from his mouth._

_The press halts as an ear-splitting klaxon wails throughout the room, and he looks up, lifting his boot from the downed human, pausing only to give a sound kick to the man's chest, flinching at the sound of cracking ribs. _

_Simulation over._

_--_

Three pairs of eyes watch the monitors around them, each bearing a different angle, each showing the same thing, only from a new perspective.

The first pair of eyes, hidden away behind darkened glass, watches the moments, the reactions to the threats around him…how not one of them leads to the death of the target. How every member of that team sustained serious injuries…all bar _her._

A smirk teases his lips. "Perfect."

He stands, the leather chair creaking as his body is eased from its confines. The other eyes in the room turn to him.

"Wesker…you can't do this to him."

Orange meets green, and even through a veil of darkness shrouds them, Wesker can still feel the other's discomfort, spying an angry look on the young man's face.

"Who said I couldn't?"

"I'm saying it! Your plan is stupid, and it's going to drive him insane! It'll break him, tear him to pieces, he won't be able to do anything!"

"What makes you so sure?"

"I…" he trails off, unsure of his reply, but in his heart, he knows this is wrong.

"Perhaps you should stay quiet on matters that don't concern you, Steve."

"Pot. Kettle. Black." The third person in the room speaks up, slinking forwards into the light from the monitors. Arms crossed, she's frowning. "This is a dangerous game you're playing Wesker. I don't know what you plan to do with this…matchmaking game of yours…but I hope for your sake you know what you're doing."

"Ada, my dear, playing with hearts may be your game…" He chuckles, facing her. "But don't be so naive to believe that you're the only one who can fool people into believing something false."

She flinches, a hand tightening on her bare arm, eyes downcast. _Leon…_

"I have something special in store for these two…" The trio look back up at the monitors, showing the group leaving or being carried out on stretchers from the training room…

--

_He catches her just outside the training room, after they've both changed, clean clothes hugging them like a second skin._

"_Hey…"_

"_Huh?" She turns her head, a slight look of alarm on her guarded features as she looks at him. "Oh…"_

"_I…I wanted to apologise for in there."_

"_In the training room? You did what you had to do in those circumstances-"_

"_Yeah, but I could have killed you…any of you. I'm sorry about your friends, will they be okay?"_

"_Doc said they'd be fine, just need a bit of patching up. Few broken bones, not much else." A shrug. "I'm Eliza by the way."_

"_Chris. Chris Redfield." he smiles at her, a fuzzy feeling growing in his chest as he takes her hand. Suddenly, he has to stop himself kissing the appendage in his grip, from kissing her lips, touching her hair, holding her close to his chest…and he doesn't know why._

_He notices a delicate flush rising in her cheeks. "You can…let got now…" she murmurs._

"_Huh?" he's forgotten he still has her hand. Reluctantly, he lets her slip it away, a shy smile on his face. "Sorry."_

"_It's alright. I just need it to eat is all…Do you…wanna grab something to eat?" she jerks a thumb behind her for emphasis, stumbling over her words._

"_Uh, sure." He's not quite sure it's normal for him to go eat with someone he's almost choked, but she seems easy enough around him, and she's the one asking._

"_Come on then." Seeing the hesitation on his face, she adds, "Don't worry about it. Stuff like that happens during training. Boss wouldn't have put us in there if he didn't think we could handle it."_

"_Yeah, yeah, guess your right." he feels a little better about it now, and slips his arm through hers. "To the cafeteria then?"_

_She nods. "To the cafeteria."_

_--_

The cafeteria is packed. Almost every long table is filled with teams off duty, relaxing, sitting either on the floor, table or occasionally the chairs. The whole place just reeks of cafeteria food, fun times and good friends.

"Wow, wasn't expecting such a…rush." she frowns slightly. "Where we gonna sit?"

Before her companion can reply, a small throng of younger men surround him, chattering excitedly.

"Aw dude! That was amazing!"

"You totally kicked their butts!"

"No one else managed to take that team down before -"

"And you did it all by yourself!"

The adoration and respect is rife in this place, she notices.

"You got skills man!

"Mad skills!"

She whistles loudly, and as the chattering ends, they look at her curiously.

"Alright brats, back off, this isn't a video game convention."

"Hey girly, don't you tell us what to do." She gains herself a few angry looks from Chris's admirers. "We got just as much right being here as you."

A muscled blond one leers at her. "Yeah, why don't you go screw your commanding officer to get a raise?"

The torment is met by jeers and laughs from his friends, claps on his shoulder.

Chris expects her to glare at him, slap him perhaps; instead, she does something a little different.

A small smile comes to her face, the sides of her eyes wrinkling with mirth. "Oh sweetie, I wouldn't dream of taking your boyfriend away from you."

Stunned silence.

Then his group of 'friends' burst out in raucous laughter, a few actually falling to the ground, clutching their stomachs.

"Dude, you got OWNED!"

"By a GIRL!"

His face is bright red, mouth working away soundlessly, hands balled into fists.

"Shut up! All of you! SHUT UP!" his anger filled voice echoes throughout the cafeteria, and the chatter dies away, all eyes drawn towards the group at the entrance. He raises a finger to point at her. "You'll get what's coming to you, whore." he promised, eyes glinting.

A hand claps down on his shoulder.

"Listen, if I were you, I'd keep my distance. Wouldn't want to end up like the rest of that team now would you?" Chris warns him lowly, his eyes burning behind the glasses.

Fear flashes across the blue eyes, but all too soon replaced by anger. "Who'd you think you are, freak? Huh? Wesker wannabe? Watch your back, you wouldn't want to turn up missing, would you?" he hisses, pushing the hand off his shoulder. "Might want to tell your girl the same thing." He pushes his way out the gaggle of fan boys, a few reluctantly following, bearing the same team number on their shoulders.

Slowly, people turn back to their companions; chatter filling up the room again. Those who crowded round drift away now, sending the pair worried smiles, concerned looks.

"You gonna be okay?"

"Me? Please, if I let that nut job get to me, then I'd have left my first day. Let's just eat. I'm starved."

As he leads her to the nearest free table, Chris reminds himself to personally thank Wesker for making him a 'new recruit.'


	13. Chapter 13

-1The blonde scientist sinks down into the frail wooden chair, a sigh escaping his parched lips. On the table in front of him is a glass of cool iced water, condensation running down the sides and into the wooden table, a close file with a cup rim stain on one corner, and a packet of painkillers. In the centre of the table is a rare sight, a plate of fresh cookies. _Cameron must have made them. What's she done now?_

Hesitantly, he reaches out and takes one, giving the confectionary a cursory look over. The sugar-filled treat is a rich brown colour, with chocolate chunks breaking through the surface and sides. It's about as big as his fist. It looks like pure heaven, and he can already feel his mouth watering.

As his teeth sink into the brown biscuit, the door opens and in walks the buzzing beast herself. He swallows his mouthful.

"Good afternoon, maggot bait." Her voice irritates him, a sheer copy of the old Red Queen voice from Arklay. It's exactly the reason she chose that. He would have preferred any other, hell, even Wesker's, or Sergei's.

Something else he hates about her. Whenever she's around…there's always this…buzzing sound. It's his own fault, and he damn well knows it, and short of gassing her there's not much he can do about it.

Doesn't mean he can't hate it, however.

"Good day, Cameron." he inclines his head towards the plate of snacks. "Did you make these?"

"I did. With _all_ me."

She laughs, a curious sound, as he drops the snack, a horrified look on his face. The food sticks in his throat, and he can feel bile rising up to meet it, wanting nothing more than to spit it out, manners be damned.

"Oh, I do apologise Maggot. I was only having a joke." She says as her suited hand slams into his back, dislodging the chunk of food. He spits it out into the palm of his hand, his blue and purple speckled eyes glaring up at her.

"Some joke." he growls. "Your research is what _I'd_ call a joke, Cameron, a bad joke. Shouldn't you be working on it? I assume you want _some _laughs."

"My research is not a joke. Wasting time on some brain-dead mutant, acting as if she is the key to existence, that is a joke Maggot."

His fist slams down on the table, the plate rattling, file bouncing slightly. "Enough." The single word is quiet, heavy with threat. "This research helped you out of a certain predicament, if you remember correctly. If I were you, I'd stay very, very quiet on this matter. Are we clear?"

The suited doctor nods silently. She wants to say something, make up for her mistake, apologise, but her pride refuses to let her utter a word to the scientist as he gets to his feet, the chair scraping against the floor. He brushes past her and she notices the shudder that runs through him as he does.

Does she really disgust him that much?

She questions this as he leaves, the white lab coat the last things she sees of him.

---

He stands looking down at the young woman lying on the slab in front of him. Everyday is the same. He always visits, talks to her still form, brushing the tangles from her hair as he tells her about his research. About how she's helped him so much, how he owes her his life…how sorry he is about everything they did to her before.

She never responds.

Her eyes stay firmly shut, hiding the grey eyes from the room's merry lighting, which shines daintily in her golden tresses.

"Your so much like Sherry." he murmurs to her often, longing to have his daughter back, longing to take back the past, warp it and twist it, to have made them all a real family…instead of the shambles it had been.

_Sherry…god, I'm sorry I couldn't stop myself…and now he has you, locked away…what is he doing to you?_

"Oh my dear…if only you could meet her. You would get along for sure…I just know you would….One day, when I get her back, I'll introduce her to you. Maybe you could wake up for her. Do you think you could do that?"

Only her deep breaths answer him.

"One day, perhaps…" One day perhaps her mind will heal itself from the years of torture and solitude, of experimentation and horrors…Until then, he will continue to craft his salvation from her remarkable body, the elixir that would put a stop to it all.

"You'll help me save her, won't you Lisa?"

---

She watches him from behind the glass panel, hearing his soft murmured words as he speaks to the comatose woman lying still, mind shattered and ruined, her regenerated body only good for taking samples.

Why wouldn't he give up on her? It's obvious to her that Sleeping Beauty won't wake up, not without a goddamn brain transplant.

Placing a suited hand against the one way glass, she watches his movements carefully, wondering…

_Did he pay me so much attention? Was he this fixated with me before I awoke? Was he as ceaseless in helping to cure me of my…affliction?_

She finds herself wishing he would pay her the same amount of attention nowadays…rather than the disgust he always displays.

She watches him leave the room, turning off the lights, watches as he flicks on a small nightlight by the door and murmur his goodbyes. _He cares so much for this wretch…He sees his daughter in her, is that it? He sees what Umbrella could have done to Sherry…What Wesker could do._

Her hand falls to her side. "Come my pets, feeding time." she murmurs to herself, exiting the small surveillance room.

---

He stands bent over vials of viruses, back aching from endless hours of being in the same position writing, muttering, thinking, all of it leading in loops and twists. It's almost impossible to concentrate today; his mind is trailing to and fro.

_Sherry…_

_Wesker…_

He needs to forget them, but he can't, she's always at the forefront of his mind, every word he said to her that day, every time he ignored her, refused to be the father he was supposed to, how he let the G-virus take over his life.

He hates it, now more than ever; especially what it did in the process of saving his life, infecting his own flesh and blood.

His fist tightens around the empty vial in his hand and it smashes, the fragments embedding themselves into his flesh. He barely feels it, the pain dimly registering alongside the emotional pain of what he has done.

The hand opens slowly, and he manages to focus on the blood dripping down it, onto the counter. Before he cleans himself up, he grabs a slide and catches a drop of his blood on it, replacing it onto the counter. He stands upright, wincing as his back creaks and wanders off to find a bandage for his hand.

_One good thing about pain…it lets me know I'm alive._

---

Dr Cameron is tapping away at her computer, concentrating on the any millions of signals she's sending to ensure she hits each key. It's funny, living like this has become second nature to her now, but she'd still give anything for her old body. Even as she types up failed research notes, she dreams about what she could do without this accursed suit confining her.

_Perhaps…there will be no more disgust…in those eyes…_

If she could smile, she would be just then, and there would be a dreamy look on her face at the same time.

A sudden noise from her phone makes her snap out of it.

"Excuse me Dr Cameron. You have an incoming video conference request. Shall I patch you through?"

"Yes, thank you Dixie."

A screen lowers behind her and she spins in the seat, and crosses her legs automatically, smoothing out an imaginary skirt.

The face she sees on the screen is one she's not meant to see.

He should not know she lives.

"How did you…?" there's surprise and horror in her voice.

"Oh, Doctor Cameron…Ada's such an…informative little woman, isn't she?" a smirk appears on his face, and he holds up something small in a gloved hand.

It's a clear container, inside are several small black beings. A sharp flick of his wrist and the things are battered from one side to the other.

Cameron shrieks and grabs her head, legs becoming planted to the floor. "Stop it! Please!"

"Not until I have what I want…"


	14. Chapter 14

-1

"See, if you hold it just a little differently…" Chris's arms wrap about her body, covering her own hands on the gun and changing its grip slightly. She can feel the burning stares of the other members of her team glaring at them either jealously, or angrily, not enjoying having their practice interrupted by the lovebirds.

"…Then your aim is just that little bit better." he smiles down at her, eyes hidden behind those specs of his. They remind her of her employer, their employer, except that Chris is seen everywhere, speaking to everyone, laughing, having a good time…whereas Wesker stays in the forbidden lower levels.

His body presses closer against hers as he helps her aim, and what was just friendly aid now turns sexual, as her breath hitches slightly. He notices, but doesn't remove himself, instead stroking her hand with his thumb softly, whispering in her ear.

Then something inside him rebels and he pulls back slowly, somewhat disgusted with himself. He shouldn't be doing this…it feels wrong now, but then why had it felt…so right?

She looks at him as he backs off, and sees confusion flash across his face, almost seeing his internal debate with himself.

"Chris, what's wrong?" she asks, barely loud enough to be heard over the gunshots of the team.

"Nothing, just…I'm fine." he smiles weakly. "Just had enough practice for one day."

---

_Chris lay down on the couch, hands folded on his chest, staring up at the ceiling as Dr. Wong made herself comfortable, crossing her legs and balancing a clipboard on top of them, her slit red skirt showing almost every inch of her pale thigh but Chris wasn't interested. Besides, he'd heard from Krauser she was his bed warmer, and he didn't want to cross his friend._

"_Now, how are you today Christopher?" her silky voice enquired. _

"_I'm…confused. I had another dream last night, but they're not as frequent as the used to be. This time, I was with the brunette-"_

"_Which one?"_

"_Huh?"_

"_Which one? Which brunette?"_

"…_There's only one, the other's a red head."_

"_Are you sure she wasn't blonde?"_

"_What?"_

"_I'm sure you said she was blonde, Christopher, not red haired."_

"_Oh…Yeah…yeah, must have gotten it wrong, thanks…anyway, I was with the brunette-_

"_Blonde."_

"_- with the blonde and we were in this huge mansion, and Wesker was there with us."_

"_That's impossible Chris."_

"_I know that Dr Wong-"_

"_Why were you confused?"_

"_Because she looked like Elza."_

_Pause._

"_Well…At least I think she did…I'm so confused…I don't know if I'm remembering things, or if I'm making it all up…"_

"_It's just a dream Chris. They aren't real."_

"_Yeah…yeah I know."_

---

Aside from his dreams, things have been fine these past few weeks. Wesker hasn't spoken to him much, nothing aside from the occasional check-up and to make sure nothing had happened, that he hadn't been discovered. For some reason, Chris had been forbidden to reveal his eyes and 'talents' to the others. Chris can't understand why not, they _are _his friends, weren't they? He doesn't understand that none of them should be trusted at all.

As he stands in front of the bathroom mirror in his quarters below, he tugs at his fringe. Elza had promised to cut if for him but as of yet, there hasn't been the time.

He's remembered Forest's face now, and the hair. A mullet. _My hair's not __quite__ that long yet, but still…_ He gives his reflection a smile. "I miss my short hair…" he states to himself, gathering it up behind his head and turning his face from side to see the difference, before dropping the strands with a sigh. "Who am I kidding…I can't remember my short hair…"

He walks through to his bed and flops down onto it, regretfully reminding himself he'd be sleeping alone again. So long as his quarters remain in the lower levels, Elza can't visit without getting brutally killed by Steve's pets, and Wesker has so far denied his request to move up.

He grabs an energy bar and gives it a nibble, tossing its wrapper onto the floor, right beside the bin. Sometimes he finds talking to himself can be helpful, especially while he's eating an energy bar.

"Okay…dreams..." he mumbles through his mouthful, sitting up. "Blonde, brunette or red-head?" It sounds like a bad joke, but he could have sworn before he started speaking to Dr Wong that he'd been dreaming of a brunette and red-head, two entirely separate entities. Now, she's been telling him it's just been a blonde, singular.

"Red-head…she was…" she had been someone important in the dreams, but someone he cared for, not lusted after or wanted. That had been the brunette's role.

"Was it really just a blonde?"

It must have been.

She's the doctor, the one with the degree.

She must be right.

---

Elza hesitates, then swings for the black punch bag, counting out a rhythm in her head.

_One two duck three four kick one two kick three four -_

She stops herself, lowering her arms. She can't concentrate enough to train, there's something -

No.

Some_one_ on her mind.

Glancing round to ensure no one sees her shirking practice, she sneaks back into the changing room and out through the door, not bothering to change. She walks past the empty shower stalls, and stops beside a lab techs coat, reaching out and snatching the pass.

"Highest level…lets hope its right…" she murmurs to herself, pocketing it for future use.

Once more checking for unwanted surveyors, she escapes the changing area and steals out into the hallway. Then, acting as if everything was normal, she continues to the lift.

It's empty inside, and there's no irritating music to anger her. As the lifts doors close, she pulls out the car once more and swipes it through the reader, and selects the highest of the forbidden levels. The lift shudders then moves down through the levels without much fuss, and she sighs with relief, running a hand through her blonde hair.

She could only hope she'd selected the correct floor.

It's a mystery to her as to why Chris stays below with Wesker and his private protégée, the anomaly that know one knows about, or if he/she even exists. The thought has occurred to her before that Chris could be that protégée, everything suggested it…even the goddamn sunglasses, _which he hasn't removed yet,_ she thinks bitterly as with another judder, the lift halts and the doors open with a ping.

Taking another deep breath, she steps out the lift -

And walks right into someone with startlingly green eyes.

---

"How'd you do it?" Chris dusks, feeling the air part as Krauser's arm passes over his head, and knowing the power behind it, that it could have knocked him clean off the mat, and swings a leg out.

"Do what?" The scarred man grunts as he jumps on the spot, narrowly avoiding his legs being kicked from under him, swinging for the other's chest.

"Get Dr Wong to like you?" he asks in a gasp, stumbling back, winded.

Krauser would laugh if he wasn't busy trying to roundhouse kick the winded Redfield. "It's a relationship of mutual benefits, no strings attached. A booty call." he shrugs, and his momentary lapse of concentration earns him a fist in the face. He stumbles back, spitting out a tooth and barely manages to dodge the next harsh blow.

"That's not what I'm looking for." Chris says pointedly, balancing on the balls of his feet, ready for the next attack. "I want something…long term."

"Chris I'm flattered, but I don't swing that way." Krauser laughs as a confused look crosses the other' face and ducks behind him, grabbing a handful of Chris's long hair, wrapping his fingers around it tightly and yanking backwards, grinning at the yelp of shock and surprise he gains.

"I wasn't talking about you and you know it!" Chris snaps. "I was talking about…" he trails off.

"About who?"

"Elza…" he freezes then something reaching his sensitive ears. _A scream? GO! Help them!_ He breaks free of Krauser's grip, and leaps off the mat, bare feet pounding at the floor.

He doesn't hear Krauser yelling after him, doesn't notice as he knocks both of the gym doors clean off their hinges in his rush, all he can concentrate on is where that scream came from, and running towards it.

He can hear the blood rushing in his ears, his easy breaths, his swift feet, and the air rushing past.

And suddenly he's there, at the lift, and he knows now why it seemed so important to heed the call for help, the scream that led him here…

It belongs to Elza.


	15. Chapter 15

-1Hundreds of millions of eyes blink and rotate.

Tens of millions of legs bend and move.

Millions of wings twitch and flutter.

Hundreds of thousands of bodies nestle and burrow deeper.

Two fingers twitch.

Dr Cameron is waking up.

---

What wouldn't she give for those old days…

Those old days of freedom, where she could feel as he felt, see as he saw, moved like he moved…

Those old days were spent in a lab, perfecting her own brand of T, that vile virus with which she now worked with everyday, hoping for someway to craft a new body for herself or at least enable herself to transfer once more. Just once more, and she would be happy…

She dreads to think her life will be spent as these beasts.

She dreads to think her life will be spent never knowing the touch of another human.

Or rather, the touch of the one person she wants to feel so badly.

She wants to cry at the sorrow she feels at her core, but she has no tear ducts anymore.

She cannot weep for what she cannot have.


	16. Chapter 16

-1Chris's hand closes around the shirt of Elza's attacker, ripping him from her in a fury, snarling and pinning them to the wall away form her, unable to hear her yelp of shock and relief through his anger at -

Steve?!

He growls and shoves the younger man against the wall, gripping his top. "What the hell do you think your playing at?!"

The red-head glares at him sullenly, silence his only answer.

"You better say something Steve, or you'll -"

"Chris stop it!" Elza grabs his arm and tugs on it, somewhat astonished at his strength. He doesn't budge an inch, the same determined look on his face. "Let him go! I'm not supposed to be down here anyway. He had a reason-"

"There was no need for you to attack her!" Chris snarls at his friend, releasing his grip. "You stay away from her, you understand?"

"Whatever, last time I try to do you a favour jackass." Steve shoves past Chris, sending him back into Elza.

"…Chris, what did he meaning by that?"

He turns his back to her, using a hand to hide his eyes. She can't see him like this, not now, not without the sunglasses, he feels as if she'd be repulsed by their mismatched colours.

"You shouldn't be here. If I were you, I'd get back up top and forget this ever happened."

"I came down here to see you! I'm NOT-!" as she raises her voice to get her point across, his warm hand covers her lips and she falls silent, looking up at his face, expecting to finally see the colour of his eyes when with a frown she realises they're closed.

"Please…if he knows your down here…" there's a pleading hint to his voice. "Just…be quiet, and follow me."

She nods under the hand and he pulls it away, finding that her hand is suddenly in his as they walk along the silent hallways to his room.

---

The door closes behind them and Elza sets herself down on the bed as Chris still refuses to look at her until he has once more donned the dark shades that hide his eyes from her.

"Let me look at you," he murmurs, sitting down at her side. "He didn't hurt you did he?" he asked, one calloused hand touching her neck to check for damage.

"Oh, so now you want to look at me, when you've got those shades on. You can't see anything." she gives a soft smile and reaches for them.

His fingers curl around her wrist. "No…You don't…you don't understand." Chris whispers. "You…you can't…"

"Can't what? Chris what's wrong?" She leans closer, eyes creasing in worry. "You can tell me…"

"I…I can't…" he murmurs sadly, voice almost lost in the room.

"Please…let me see.."

He stares at her for a moment, his thumb stroking the back of her hand as he thought. If she saw his eyes…then there was every possibility that he'd lose her forever…

"Just…promise me…one thing?"

"Anything."

"Don't scream."

---

Krauser grumbles to himself as he reattaches the gym doors, driving the screws in by hand. Goddamn, next time he sees Chris, he'll give his fellow BOW a piece of his mind, and then a piece of his arm.

The screws are in now, and the doors are working once again. Time to head to Chris's room, hopefully to find the thankless brat who'd fled from their training, just as he was loosing too. _Sore loser_, he decides.

Indeed, as he walks away from the gym, his mind is filled with thoughts of beating the other BOW to a pulp, first for fleeing, the second for breaking off the doors. Finally in front of the door, his mind is too busy to think of knocking before he's shoved it open.

The scene inside reminds him that next time, he should knock.

---

Elza wonders why Chris is so seemingly terrified, she doesn't believe that whatever lies behind those shades will make her scream.

"I promise."

He lets go of her wrist, and she hesitates to pull the shades away. Does he truly want her to? What could be so terrible that it makes even him afraid to show her? She's never known him to be afraid of anything before, and she knows him now almost like the back of her gun.

He's looking at her expectantly, and her fingers gently brush against his cheek, barely touching the warm plastic before griming it between her finger and thumb, easing the specs down the bridge of his nose, painfully slowly.

His eyes are closed at first, and as she closes the glasses, pressing them into his hand, she gazes at the shut lids, waiting for him, waiting for them to open.

She hears him take a shaky breath, deep and slow, and her fingers brush the skin on his hand ever so softly, reassuring him. The hand tightens its grip on the glasses and she hears a snapping noise.

Slowly, the lids lift, and she feels an electric shock run down her spine, her entire body frozen as she stares at those entrancing eyes, one of green and silver, the other of gold and orange. She hears a sharp intake of breath, unaware it is her own. She's afraid, yet at the same time…they draw her in.

They are like nothing she's ever seen before in her life, not even in the monsters she's killed. They are wonderful…and terrifying.

He watches the flickering emotions cross her beautiful features, and tenses up. She'll hate him, hate what he is, and he'll lose her forever, he's sure of it…So sure he breaks their gaze and looks down at the broken glasses in his hand instead.

He doesn't expect to feel the hand on his face, soft, making him look up at her, at her _normal_ grey eyes, and instead of the hatred, the _fear_ he expects to see…he sees curiosity, wonder…and trust.

He opens his mouth, silent, trying to speak, to ask why she hasn't already fled the room in fear, but by then…her lips are already covering his, soft and half afraid to go on further. He pulls back sharply, mismatched eyes wide.

"Elza-"

"I don't care."

"But-"

"No…Chris. They don't frighten me…they're amazing…" She gives a nervous smile, gripping his hand. "I don't want to leave."

"You don't…" his lips twitch in a smile. He presses his lips on her once again, shifting closer, a blissful feeling encompassing them, his arm around her waist, pulling her closer -

The door slams open and the two break apart, staring at Krauser, who stares back.

"…Shit Redfield, you ran off for a shag? Did you have to break down the doors for that?"


	17. Chapter 17

-1

This one's for all the folks that didn't stop believing I'd keep going with this. I hope you'll forgive me for the long wait, but here it is, the next chapter. Yes, I realise I've messed up the chapter dates. Truth be told it was never meant to be this long. I kept getting fed ideas though.

Once it's all finished, then I'll probably go back and reorder the chapters, do a bit of editing, and make it make sense. Lets just get to the end for now aye?

---

She smiles at their reflection in the full-length mirror as he places kisses along her shoulder, brushing aside the blonde strands in his way, loving the soft feeling of their skin meeting, the shiver it's sending down her spine. She murmurs his name teasingly, and turns to face him, loosing herself in those vibrant eyes of his.

For weeks, they've been together now. For weeks they've spoke of the dangers of this relationship, how it could all go wrong…how it could all go right. The pros. The cons.

They've decided it's worth it.

And so far…things are great. The secret, shared moments between them slowly blossom into hours, and soon enough, days. No one notices their absence, or if they do, it is never mentioned to their face.

Chris is positive Wesker even gave him a knowing smile at their last correspondence. Krauser outright laughs and pats him on the back whenever Elza is mentioned, and the brunette always flushes red. Steve has not said a word about them.

"Well?" he smiles, waiting, tantalisingly close.

"Well what?" she teases, hands trailing over the barely concealed contours of his chest. Tank tops really just make him look muscle bound…and she loves it.

"Well someone's waiting outside the door with fan-fucking-tastic hearing!"

"Fuck off Jack!" Chris eases Elza away from him and goes to the door, where Jack's waiting. Somewhere around the corner he can sense Steve. "What is it?"

"You said you were gonna practice, and the little punk ass and I are gonna beat your ass, that's what." Krauser crosses his muscled arms, waiting for a response. Chris dithers, glancing back at Elza, who shoos him off. She has practice too, gun training with the normal folks above.

Waving goodbye, Chris follows Krauser down to the gym, picking up a Steve along the way. He's favouring one side, Chris notices, and he doesn't look happy.

"What happened?" The marksman asks, concerned.

"Wesker took a hissy fit."

"You piss him off again Ginger Wonder?" Krauser shoves open the door to the gym.

"Na, he's just on his period." Since Steve's feeling well enough to crack jokes, Chris deems it fine to let him participate.

"Okay, so rules?"

"No eye gouging, mutations, groin shots, guns - basically the usual." Steve rattles them off on his fingers.

"Alright, let's -"

"INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT! SECTOR SEVEN C CODE RED!"

The fight ends before it can begin, as their attentions turn to the warning blasting out the speakers.

"What's Code Red?" Chris hasn't learned them all yet, he hasn't even had a chance to really.

"Ah - how do I put this - big damn problem." Krauser pushes his way past them. "And they're one floor above us. Forget the fight, we got us a war goin' on."

Steve followed Krauser's lead, as did Chris. Weapons locker first, quick grab of a gun or two, then they split up, going to separate lifts to get above ground.

---

He can hear people ahead of him, can hear their breathing - ragged, harsh, fearful - and he stalks towards them, coming from the right corridor that connects with where they'll pass.

Then - another voice, angry, the sound of a gun's safety being turned off now painfully loud as he realises who's voice it is, who's holding the gun to the intruders , who's vastly outnumbered -

He rushes around the corner, only a second has passed.

He comes out behind her, and something about the Kevlar clad intruders changes, making her turn, thinking there's more - it's only him.

"Chris -"

Three shots in succession sound, and Elza jerks as the metal enters her body, passing through her digestive tract, tearing through the toned muscle and out, hitting him.

They don't do as much damage.

The last thing he sees before it all becomes a red mist is her falling to the floor.

The last thing he hears is his name, whispered on her last breath before it's cut off with a scream from the man he's ripping limb from limb. He seems familiar.

The blonde from the cafeteria. Traitor. He screams it, or maybe he doesn't.

Either way, when Chris holds Elza's warm corpse to his chest, he can't remember anything about what has taken place.

All he remembers is loss.

---

Hours later, they find him, an empty shell surrounded by body parts and blood, soaked to the bone in red. His eyes are hollow, the light gone from them. He cradles a body close, and they can't pry him away without getting a feral snarl, warning them against any further action.

Not even Krauser can get through to him.

Eventually they leave him, and down the hallways comes the man in black himself.

"Chris."

The familiar voice finally reaches him, with its deep rooted connections in his mind. He looks up, no emotion, and stares at the blonde.

A black, leather-gloved hand reaches down to him.

He stares still. Slowly, his hand comes up, dripping blood, and takes the hand.


	18. Chapter 18

-1

"He's gone too far this time."

Krauser glances up at Ada from his position in Wesker's seat. They're surrounded by monitors displaying feeds from the security cameras but she only has eyes for one screen. On it, Wesker stands beside Chris at a firing range watching as Chris fires into a target. A shot lands straight between the paper target's eyebrows and almost rips its head clean off.

He grunts. "He's just shooting targets, how is that too far?"

"Because next will be shooting people. Chris isn't a killer, but - " She waves her hand at the screen. "He's being made into one."

Krauser scratches at the back of his neck, feet up on the desk in front of him. "Look, I don't like it anymore than the next guy, but the boss is the boss, and we're just the muscle - well." He pauses and lets his eyes roam over Ada. " You're not exactly muscle but you see my point."

She scowls at him. "Jack- "

They're interrupted when the door swings open and in saunters Steve, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He kicks the door shut behind himself and walks over.

"I warned you, I told you this wasn't gonna end well, I warned him even!" he waves a hand at the monitor, Chris' blank face angled towards the targets. "No one bothered to listen did they! No one. Ever. Does."

"Steve, now isn't the best time -"

"What, you too busy having a lover's spat?" He grinned at them. "Yeah I know about that."

"Steve. I'm warning you -"

"Now isn't the best time for this discussion." Ada breaks up the fight before it even starts. "It's hardly love. What matters right now is what Wesker is doing to Chris." She presses fingers to her temple, thinking…_Now would be a good time for the infiltration. I'll inform Birkin at once…_

"Excellent Ada. I want you to contact them immediately, and then give them the location of Wesker's base. This is almost too perfect! And soon, I'll have my little girl back!" The glee in Birkin's voice doesn't reach Dr Cameron. She looks on emotionless as ever, buzzing quietly as her million little bodies move through her biohazard suit.

"I cannot believe you'd begin a major offensive solely at the direction of a woman who has swapped organizations more than she has beds!"

There's a pause. "Meaning?"

"Meaning I think I'd rather take on that Krauser as a trusted ally and god knows how despicable that man is."

"It's a risk I'll have to take. And Krauser is more loyal to Wesker than you think. He made Krauser, he can break him apart against just as easily. Just one more risk…"

"…"

" …I'll have both my little girls." she hears him whisper to himself. If she could frown, she would. Instead she leaves and makes for the room where Birkin is keeping his 'little girl', where he has managed to re-grow a body for Lisa. _Such a pity she's brain dead. All she is an empty shell…Perfect, really._ If she can remain alone with Lisa's unresponsive shell, then she could gain the use of a body once more. Enough to last her until she can find a real body, at least. But perhaps now isn't the best time. The facility would be tough to break out of once Birkin realised what she had done, she needs a distraction before she can even attempt to become something other than a writhing mass of flies.

Half a mile away from Wesker's facility, Jill stands with the small group, Carlos holding the facility map and double checking the layout one last time. She can barely hear Barry going over the plan one more time with the rest of the group, too lost in thought. This is it, Wesker's going down for the count once and for all. They'll finish what started that night at the mansion, for all those who could be here to do it.

"Jill?" Barry gently nudges her back to get her attention.

"Hm?"

"You ready for this? Wesker's not going anywhere, we can do this in a weeks time if you aren't feeling good, you're so pale." She hasn't noticed, but he has.

"No, no. I'm ready, I can do this." She gives a tight-lipped smile.

"For Chris, right?" A nod from her and Barry says, "Come on then. We're all good to go."

Carlos is staring at his watch. "Alright, we've got enough time to get there and get close before the cameras get frozen or wiped or whatever -"

"They basically get turned off Carlos, it's not that hard to understand." Rebecca cuts in.

"Yeah that, after that we get in, take out the power and get down to the underground areas. Anyone gets in our way, just do what you have to. We're in this to get Wesker, and any other B.O.W.s they got down there. Wesker dies, everyone else comes with us. You've all got the BOW tranquilisers so we're good."

"I really don't think we should be giving anyone human B.O.W.s Carlos. What if they want to use them?"

"It's a risk we have to take. Once Wesker's gone we can take them down too." Even if it means a few more years of work, he's willing to do it just to be rid of the menace hanging over their heads.

The group falls silent contemplating the work they'll have to do after this, and for how much longer they'll have to put off living out a normal life for the sake of saving others. It hurts that they can't do the normal things most days but in the end it's worth it knowing they're saving lives.

"…Okay, maybe not the best thing to bring up before a huge mission." Carlos mumbles. "Sorry, but we're on a tight schedule, so lets move out." The group nods as one and Carlos lead them out into the evening.


	19. Chapter 19

((A/N: Apparently this site has removed my scene dividers. They used to be three dashes but I'm resorting to dash zero dash for scene splits now. If these disappear, I swear I'm going to shoot someone. Sorry about the delay, uni has been hellish, lets dive in shall we?))

-0-

A pair of eyes watches the group walk away from behind a pair of binoculars. In due time she'll follow them in through a different way. She thinks it amazing none of them had chosen the route she plans to follow; it's just a sewer system. There is likely to be less security there once the base has been alerted to the group's presence, so that's where she'll go.

It's a fairly wooded area, and it's easy enough for Claire to maintain a distance between the group and herself. Chris taught her how to move silently in places like this and she's putting it to uses he'd not thought of; tracking their mutual friends. Close to the facility, the group pauses for a few moments. Claire can't see exactly what they're doing but soon enough blaring alarms sound and it's their cue to move in. Whoever their inside assistant is, they hadn't thought to shut off the warnings for them too or perhaps they don't want to give them too much aid. Once she's sure they're gone and unable to spot her she makes her way around to her entrance, an old sewer grating heavily overgrown with grass and weeds. She spends a few tense moments cutting away the roots holding down the covering then uses her knife as a crowbar to lever it up, hoping it doesn't break because she hasn't brought a spare. She's finally able to slide it to the side, the only sound still the blazing alarms inside. Taking a deep breath, Claire lowers herself into the hole and braces her legs against the slippery concrete sides and does her best to slow her descent but really only succeeds in getting her jeans covered in some sort of slime that she prays isn't infested with T-Virus infected microbes.

She lands with a loud splash in the liquid below. Thankfully it isn't deeper than her waist when she's sitting like this on her now aching bottom. She finds it hard to stand up again immediately and instead spends a moment making sure she hasn't broken anything. After the check she struggles to her feet and decides that yes, she has smelt worse than this before. That time in the Rockfort facility hadn't made her smell like roses. But she's used to suffering for the cause, of course, so she wrinkles her nose and plods on through the ankle high water. She isn't quite sure how far to go in, enough that she's supposed to descend a few ladders for that will surely take her right to the lower floors. To Wesker.

As she walks, she thinks about everything that has led to her coming here, the losses they've suffered. Steve, Chris, and Sherry…Faces she'll never see again, but ones she'll never forget. This trip won't bring them back, and if she doesn't kill Wesker, she knows he won't give up the chance to remove the last Redfield from the face of the earth. She'll only get one chance, and she's put all her hope on catching him off guard and ending it before he has a chance to show off those insane powers of his.

Because if it doesn't work, then she'll be joining her brother wherever he ended up.

-0-

She's gone down three ladders, two slippery slopes and fallen more times than she cares to count in the sludge underfoot when she finally finds what she's looking for. The hatch into the lower levels. It's supposed to come out in the showers or somewhere similar. She can't quite remember what the map said, the room name slipping out of her mind. What matters is that she gets inside.

The water is deeper here, running faster. Hand dripping slightly from the last fall, she reaches up to unlock the door, one of those twisting wheel things. Dimly she wonders if she's strong enough to open it, when before her eyes it shudders and begins to open of its own accord. She freezes, not even breathing. Sensors? Or is someone coming down? Before she can step back and hide (never mind that there is nowhere to hide in this sewer from hell) the hatch is pulled open and blinding light enters. She cries out, immediately giving her position away and covering her eyes. It's not a surprise to her when something solid slams into her stomach, sending her sliding back and down into the flowing water.

There's a moment of horror when she realises the fluid is in her mouth, in her eyes, that she's under the water – and then she surfaces, coughing, spluttering, not at all in shape to take on whoever found her –

"Don't be stupid, he says, no one's suicidal enough to go down through the sewers, he says. Clearly I know better than Jack." That voice is oddly smug, youthful…and familiar. Claire's too busy trying to inhale without choking to realise it though. "C'mon Pinky, sic 'em."

Something snarls and there's a splash as whatever 'Pinky' is dives into the water.

Finally Claire stumbles upright and blinks enough gunk out of her streaming eyes to see something Hunter shaped – and curiously enough, pink coloured – stalking towards her. She fumbles for her gun and realised before its drawn that it's useless wet. Instead she draws out the combat knife, a little moss still covering the cutting edge. Toe to toe with a pink hunter in a sewer system beneath Wesker's latest base. She barely has a moment to consider how she manages to get herself into these predicaments and swears if she makes it out she'll be a good girl and stay home next time before the Hunter is on her.

It's terrifyingly fast and her combat knife barely scratches its crocodilian skin. Her heart leaps in its place when she feels the teeth close down a hair's breadth from where her arm was but a second ago. It snarls at her again and suddenly charges, catching her off guard and slamming her to the floor. She lets out a cry as the claws dig into her side, a new fear coming into play. _What if I get infected?_

The fear is shoved aside as the beast is called off by that voice again. She freezes where she fell, afraid to move in case she makes things much worse. The Hunter shuffles back and a person comes into view, hard to see in the dim light, but there is something familiar about the way he holds himself, how the light reflecting off the water hits his features. Red hair, curious eyes, pale skin…

"…Claire?"

Her eyes widen when she realises who stands before her. "...Steve."

-0-

Jill leads them into the base, Carlos and the others following. They fan out behind her, eyes watching for any sign of movement. When they come across someone in their way, they are taken down swiftly, the assailant's gun clattering to the floor. They move on, deeper into the complex. The way upstairs is easy to find, surprisingly so. It is not that which they seek.

Before the come upon the much better hidden passages to the lower levels, they are set upon by a strike team. Cornered, left without a choice, they fire upon the strike team.

-0-

She stares up at him in shock, unable to comprehend what she's seeing. "You're dead." she says bluntly, despite evidence to the contrary.

Steve blinks and offers her his hand as proof that he's real. "No I'm not." He pauses. "Well. I was. But Wesker brought me back-"

She takes his hand, almost jumping at the warm touch under her fingertips. "Brought you back?" she echoes. "But – you're-"

"Infected." He says it easily, having accepted this as part of himself long ago. "It keeps me alive, and I can control it. I won't be chasing anyone with an axe anymore, promise." he laughs softly, genuine pleasure in his eyes. "I missed you..."

"I – I missed you too -" She's thrown for a loop, mind trying to wrap itself around this new development. "What are you doing here? I get that Wesker brought you back but why didn't you leave? Send me a message to come get you, something, anything?"

He cants his head to one side slightly, looking at her. "Would you have come for me, knowing what I am? Or would you have let them kill me, experiment on me?" he asks softly.

"Neither! Steve how could you think that?"

"Because I have seen it done. I'm not a lab experiment. Here, I'm safe. There's others like me and they might not like me at times but Jack, Wesker and Chris are my family-"

"Chris?" For a moment she thinks of her brother, dropped from a helicopter, all Wesker's fault. But Chris is dead, it can't be him. But the look Steve has on his face makes her hesitate. It's a look that says _I really should learn to keep my mouth shut_. "...Steve, what do you know?" she advances on him, unheeding of the growl from the pink hunter nearby.

"Nothing!" he stammers, stepping back. "It's just a – a guy, you know, you wouldn't know him, you've never met him or known him! No relation what-so-"

"Tell me!" she yells, voice echoing around the otherwise deserted sewer.

Steve blurts out the truth in a moment of weakness. "It's your brother and Wesker did something to him and now he's a crazy murderer!"

Claire stares at him, heart feeling as though it's stopped in her chest. She doesn't know what to focus on, the fact her brother is _alive_, or that her brother is apparently a killer.

"He's alive!" she whispers. "What – what did Wesker do to Chris, tell me Steve, please. I need to know what he did to my brother." She grabs his hand, holding it in both of her own. Her knife lies somewhere in the dank sewer water around them, forgotten for the moment.

Steve's freckled face is filled with hesitation and he swallows, looking everywhere but at Claire. When he does, the pleading, desperate look on her face makes his heart ache and all he can do is nod.

-0-

"_We move in now." Birkin orders. "The strike team is already in place, while they distract Wesker, we take back what is rightfully mine!"_

_The group of twenty or so men nod and turn to suit up. To Birkin's right stands a faintly buzzing hazmat suit. Dr Cameron looks to the scientist. "I will come with you." she buzzes._

_He barely glances at her. "Don't get in my way."_

-0-

"Wesker found your brother on the side of a cliff." Steve begins. "I don't know how he got him back here, but he turns up with Chris out cold in the back of a helicopter. You know those tanks you see hunters and other experiments it? He put Chris in one of those and pumped him full of stuff. The only details I got about it was that it was some amalgamation of my virus and whatever it is that Birkin put together for Wesker."

Claire holds tight to his hand as she listens, heart beating fast as she thinks about her brother becoming an experiment. _Poor Chris..._

"He's been in that tank for two years, and then I was stupid and hit a switch to let him out. The viruses in him seem stable enough but he's completely lost his memory. He doesn't know who he is or anything aside from what Wesker's told him."

"And Wesker's told him lies." She concludes.

Steve nods. "And worse. You can't go in there, I don't even know if he'll recognise you."

"I don't have any choice Steve." She says softly, already looking to the door with determination in her eyes. "He's my brother. I have to help him."

Steve looks at her, sees the determination in her eyes, the longing to see her brother again. He's missed her so much, he doesn't want to lose her again. If Chris doesn't recognise her, then she'd get hurt. He couldn't let that happen. He places his other hand over the two holding his. "I'm coming with you.


End file.
